Replaced
by Thought Reflex
Summary: They may not have tried to hurt him intentionally, but their actions could not have cut deeper than by confirming his suspicions–he was tolerated because of the things he could do, but he had no real friends on Atlantis. Replacing him was enough of a hint
1. Chapter 1

**Rating: PG13**

**Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Zelenka, TEAM, Other**

**SUMMARY:** Their actions could not have cut deeper than by confirming his suspicions – Rodney was tolerated because of the things he could do, but he had no real friends on Atlantis. When it had come time to prove otherwise, Rodney had stood alone against Greenwall.

**NOTES:** I would like to thank Laryn, my absolutely fantastic Beta! I can not even begin to say how much she has taught me in the process of editing this story. So, Laryn, thank you for all of your help and your guidance! Now please, enjoy the story.

**REPLACED**

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Chapter 1

Leaning back as far as his ergonomic metal chair would allow, Carson Beckett sighed and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He'd been sitting in the same position long enough that his hunched shoulders ached and his arse had passed the tingling stage and moved straight to no feeling at all. His eyes felt gritty, his head was beginning to throb from staring at a computer screen too long, and his wrists hurt from typing. He was feeling down right wabbit and wanted nothing more than to escape to the mess hall to sample some of their latest dishes. However, he was almost finished with his work and he had never been the type to quit when the end was so near. So with a long suffering sigh he flexed his fingers and was just leaning forward when he heard the door to his infirmary slide open.

Carson was already standing from his desk as the city's resident genius, and one of his closest friends, stormed into the room with a deep frown on his face. He took one look at Rodney's unhappy expression and knew that he'd somehow done something wrong before the man had even opened his mouth. Carson didn't have to wait long to find out what it was.

"You were supposed to meet me over forty-five minutes ago," Rodney accused, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Carson as though he was expecting him to come up with a brilliantly fabricated excuse. Carson immediately felt guilty, because he had completely forgotten to call his friend to let him know he couldn't make it.

"I'm sorry Rodney, I had no time te meet with you today and I fergot to give ye a ring. Why didn't ye call instead of coming all the way over here?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe because I did and you never answered." Ah, right, his ear piece was sitting beside his computer in an attempt to avoid any distractions. He had assumed that if anyone really needed him they would page him on the overhead systems. He was about to apologize again when Rodney abruptly turned around and stormed away, before twisting sharply on his heel and coming right back. He was really upset about this, and that took Carson by surprise.

"Look," Rodney stated, "I know you're a busy man, but the least you could do is tell me that you don't have time for me instead of hiding away in your office! And, since we're on the topic, if you're so disillusioned with my ability to conduct safe, controlled tests with your participation then just say no the next time I ask for your help." He snapped and Carson stood taller with astonishment.

"I 'ave not been disillusioned!" He bit right back.

"Oh, so you're refusing to lend me a hand out of spite then!"

"What? Spite! What are you going on about, Rodney?" He asked incredulously. "I have a stack of paperwork as tall as the gate that needs to be finished before the Daedalus departs! I have nay time to help you out today, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier but I assure you that was all it was." Carson frowned as Rodney turned his glare away to stare across the room, frustrated, before he rubbed a hand across his eyes and finally looked back at Carson, slightly mollified. Carson was suddenly alerted to how tired his friend appeared. "Rodney? Is everythin' all right?"

"Hmm, what? Yeah, it's fine," he waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Things are great, why wouldn't they be? Look, just let me know when you have a moment to help out. I can't study this tool and activate it at the same time. All right? Good. Great," and the Canadian turned on the spot and left the infirmary as quickly as he had breezed in. Carson watched the door slide shut behind his friend with sudden concern. Rodney usually looked tired, he had for the short time Carson has known him on Earth, and even more so on Atlantis because the insomniac spent extra hours researching and running his department when he should have been sleeping. No, Carson thought, Rodney usually looked tired, but he rarely showed this level of weariness.

Of course, it was to be expected. Rodney wasn't the easiest person to get along with under the most pleasant of circumstances and he was still dealing with the fallout from Doranda. On top of that Carson knew he was having some difficulty with the newest members of the expedition; they hadn't yet seen Rodney engineer miracles from a combination of too much caffeine and too little sleep, but Carson suspected that more than a few of the original members were still upset as well.

Rodney hadn't mentioned so much as a word to Carson about any of it, of course, but he knew something was going on between his friend and the people of Atlantis. Rodney did not deal well with failure, especially failure that cost a human life, and more than one overheard comment placed the blame for Collin's death squarely on Rodney's shoulders. It wasn't a fair accusation. The decision to explore the Ancient outpost had been a joint one and though Collin's death had been tragic, it was an accident. Yet Rodney was hardly in a position to defend himself against whispered accusations given recent events. Nay, it wasn't fair, but it did explain his friend's defensive behaviour and his recently increased avoidance of public areas like the cafeteria.

Carson shook his head in dismay. He really did have a load of work to do, but if he kept at it now maybe he could drag Rodney out to dinner and ensure that the man ate more than power bars and MRE's tonight. The Daedalus was currently unloading its latest shipment: maybe there would be some delightful morsel that would cheer Rodney up. Then Carson was going to have a sit down with Sheppard and make him aware of his concern.

ooOOooOOoo

Dr. Elizabeth Weir stepped away from her desk and stretched, feeling her spine pop in relief. She'd been sitting at her desk for the better part of four hours finalizing the last of her reports for O'Neill and the SCG (something she always put off until the last minute). Now that it was done, however, she could relax and explore all the goodies that Caldwell had just finished beaming to Atlantis. She really hoped there was some bubble bath in this shipment. A nice long soak would do her wonders.

"Dr. Weir, I presume?" A man announced suddenly from behind her. Behind her in a room that should have been void of anyone but herself. She inhaled sharply and jerked around, her hand reaching quickly to her communicator, prepared to call for help if need be. She paused, however, her hand hovering over her ear as she saw that the intruder now standing before her was wearing a civilian science uniform, an American flag sitting proudly on his left arm. He smiled at her, and then with a sheepish look bowed his head.

"I apologize, Doctor Weir," he said smoothly. "When Caldwell said he was beaming me down to see you I had expected to show up in the gate room, not your office." She eyed him keenly. So this was apparently a sanctioned visit. Ever the politician she smiled back, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Apology accepted, though I will admit I'm a bit startled. I don't believe we've met."

"You would be correct. I'm Archie Greenwall, Doctor Archie Greenwall." He grinned happily and she took his proffered hand, noting the firm and welcome handshake. She smiled back, feeling a bit better knowing his name and, seeing that she wasn't in any form of danger, she relaxed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Doctor, even though I'm not sure why you're here exactly." He frowned at her in confusion, scratching behind his ear with a rather endearing nervous gesture.

"You didn't receive our communiqué I take it?"

"No, I'm afraid not," she shook her head to express this lack of knowledge. He began looking slightly sheepish again, though he still exuded his charming confidence. As far as first impressions went she was finding it difficult not to like him. He moved to her desk and placed the case he had been carrying on it, efficiently opening and pulling a manila envelope from its innards. He handed it to her with little fuss.

"I've been stationed here, Dr. Weir, as the new Chief of Science."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

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The room Radek walked into had been designated as the largest meeting area closest to the labs, and it was therefore the only logical place to hold any conference involving more than ten people. As it was, at the moment there were no vacant seats left around the elongated oval table, and the walls were aligned with scientists, most in their lab coats or designated blue science shirts. A few individuals, presumably off-shift and understandably grumpy, had shown up in their off-duty clothing. Radek frowned at this slight to their professionalism as he squeezed into a space along the sidewall and waited.

The tension in the room was mixed, some of the scientists seemed worried about the content of the meeting, others were curious, and a few (god help them) didn't seem to care. It was easy to note that the most worried and tense were those whom had been on Atlantis the longest, which meant they had not missed the concealed tension in Rodney's voice as he announced the mandatory meeting for seven in the morning.

The time of the meeting wasn't all that unusual. Radek had learned shortly after being introduced to Rodney that the man kept very strange hours and sometimes failed to realize (or care) that not everyone worked on his schedule. Radek took a moment to glare across the room as three of the newer scientists broke out into what could only be classified as sniggers. Who in their right mind would laugh before a meeting with Dr. Rodney McKay? They must be the type of scientists that had absolutely no self-preservation, where brains overran common sense. Having taken those particular individuals on a tour to their rooms when they had arrived he knew that it was most likely Corey Evangelista that was leading the trio in their fit of unflattering giggles. He would have to mention this to Rodney before he decided which teams to assign them to.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Henderson impatiently checked her watch and then shook her head in annoyance.

"Can't even show up on time for his own meeting," she muttered in irritation and Radek frowned at her even as he checked his own watch. It was 7:01, hardly anything to get upset over, especially when everyone knew that Rodney wasn't usually late without reason. However, speak of the devil and he shall appear. The door to the room swiftly slid open, just fast enough for Rodney's brisk pace, and the chief scientist strolled in with his usual air of self-importance; an air that had been so irritating to Radek these past weeks. Irritating because Zelenka had really been hurt by his friends comments all those weeks ago, and as a result he had been avoiding Rodney while he dealt with his own unprofessional emotions. The last thing Zelenka needed was to damage their friendship more than it had been because he wasn't quite ready to handle Rodney's energy or snark.

Because of this he had barely seen his friend since the _incident_, as he called it, choosing instead to correspond via electronics and radio. At the moment Rodney looked calm as he placed his ever-present computer on the end of the oval desk from which Lillian and Soo Min hurriedly scuttled away. _This is the calm before the storm_, Zelenka thought, and took a good look at his friend's face as Rodney activated his computer. When Rodney looked up there was a tightness around his eyes that Radek hadn't noticed before.

Now, however, was not the time to approach him and broach that topic, especially since Rodney had most likely already initiated the voice recorder that was mandatory for all meetings this large. Still, Radek was tempted to step to the man's side when, after a quick glance around the room, his face went from calm to highly annoyed, and he reached up and activated his radio link.

"Dr. Gilbert Keagan, come in." The clipped tone did not bode well and the people that knew him stood a little bit taller. Evangelista and his little group rolled their eyes as if the reaction was funny. A moment later Zelenka assumed the man in question had responded as Rodney began to address him. "Ah Dr. Keagan," Rodney bounced briefly on his feet, "so kind of you to respond. You do realize there is a mandatory meeting taking place this very instant and that you have yet to appear?" There was a short pause. "Oh I see: you're _on your way_. Dr. Keagan, do you know the definition of the word mandatory? Yes, it means everyone is supposed to be here, I'm glad to see your schooling hasn't been a complete waste. So, while we all stand around wasting precious time that could be spent elsewhere, doing much more important things, we are waiting for you to grace us with your presence. I'm going to suggest that instead of taking your time getting here you run, before the next mandatory meeting you're called to is on the Daedalus as it returns to Earth."

There was no mistaking the irritation in Rodney's stance as he abruptly ended the communication. However, instead of launching into the expected diatribe about incompetence Rodney just stood there and took the time to slowly rescan the room, this time assessing the individuals within it. Miko looked about ready to burst into relieved tears as his gaze passed over her. Rodney's eyes narrowed at each individual that was not in proper work attire, and Radek got a little thrill at seeing them twitch under his piercing gaze. Rodney's 'look' was just as scathing as his words, if not more so, but it was rare that he didn't use the two skills in conjunction. As irritating as the man could sometimes be, it was always entertaining to watch him pick on people who were not performing their jobs to his satisfaction. Zelenka disliked slackers as much as Rodney.

His slight amusement at the entire rooms squirming diminished though, as Rodney looked at him for a half second before moving on, barely acknowledging him as he normally might. That was strange, as the Canadian had not done that since their first month on Atlantis. His thoughts were interrupted though, as Gilbert came bursting into the room, breathing heavily and with his lab coat askew as though he had been trying to put it on while running. His brown hair was disheveled slightly, which was strange to see as he was the most impeccably groomed human being Zelenka had ever met. At the moment he had a panicked look in his eyes as he skidded to a halt and looked at Rodney.

"Nice of you to join us," was the haughty remark, but it stopped there much to several people's surprise. Gilbert nodded, looking relieved, and slipped in behind some people along the wall, trying to pointlessly shrink out of view. If Rodney knew exactly who was missing after a three second glance around the room he wasn't going to forget that Gilbert was there, especially not after that entrance. But it finally appeared as though this meeting could get underway, and with typical Rodney fashion, it did.

"Well, now that we're all here I want you to know that this meeting is going to be short and to the point: meaning I talk, and you listen." He paused a moment for effect. "It has come to my attention that those of us gathered in this room, every individual in Atlantis, and the city itself has a serious problem." _What?_ Zelenka shifted in alarm, his shoulder brushing against those crammed in beside him. _How had Rodney not told him about this sooner?!_ "The problem, it would appear, lies in us." Instantly there were several disgruntled mutterings around the room but they shut up as soon as Rodney glared at them. He began pacing in the small amount of space allotted to him, making those nearest to him nervous because he had a reputation for flailing his arms.

"Now I say 'us' as a collective science staff because even I am at fault, as difficult as that may be to comprehend." Now that had sharpened some of the scientists attention, and there was no doubt in Radek's mind that every single person instantly thought of Doranda, but Rodney didn't look at all apologetic at this moment, not like he had all those weeks ago. No, he looked as serious and as irritated as ever.

The sudden upgrade of tension in the room was impossible to remain blind to, but even more so he noticed, for the first time, how several people were looking at Rodney as though he wasn't worth listening to, as though they didn't care for his opinion. Why would they be like that?

"I am going to say this once, because frankly it will never happen again and if you can't grasp my meaning the first time around you really have no business being here. _ I_ am at fault, because I have apparently failed you as a leader. Now let me be clear that I am not referring to Doranda when I say this. That was a scientific mistake that I made, apologized for and have moved on from. Right now it appears that I have failed you as a leader, because you are failing me as my staff." Zelenka stood up straighter, along with the rest of the room, as the full Dr. Rodney McKay glare was put to use. Their leader had gone beyond the point of irritation and anger and was clearly in the realm of being truly pissed off.

"When we first came to Atlantis it was with the understanding that we would likely never return home." His gaze hardened even more, eyes narrowing further as he no doubt remembered that first difficult year out here. "With the threat of permanent separation from Earth, it was the Science Staff that were responsible for the survival of this expedition. Now tell me, what _exactly_ has changed?" Nobody answered, many people looking like they'd been smacked upside the head with his voice. Most had been expecting a regular staff meeting, Zelenka had known better and even he was still a little stunned by the severity in Rodney's voice.

"Apparently a lot has changed," he continued, a hand stabbing into the air to encompass what was probably the entire universe. "We now have the capability to go home, to gain support staff and supplies. We have allies to help us and a basic route of escape. In short we are no longer completely alone. This fact, it seems, has given us all a little too much freedom, made us too comfortable, because despite the help we now have and the replacements," his eyes lingered on Evangelista, Broderick and Zambri with a hint of disgust, "that seem to think they understand everything that is going on here, we are still very much alone in this galaxy." Every time he stopped talking there was dead silence in the room.

"Every artifact or piece of technology that we find could be crucial to the survival of Atlantis, of the Athosians, of the countless other planets out there that are victims to the Wraith and whatever other evil awaits them. So I want you to understand fully when I say that _every_ bit of effort that goes into our work could pay off in the long run. So imagine my surprise when I was reviewing your reports this morning and, after comparing them to all the work that has been completed over the course of this last month and several months before that, realized that MY staff's efficiency has dropped a huge, whopping, THIRTEEN PERCENT!" Zelenka felt his eyes widen in shock at the pronouncement, not doubting for a second that Rodney's calculation could be wrong. The only person who would even be able to calculate that efficiency without sitting down with a team of aids for two weeks to review everything, would be Rodney McKay. No wonder he looked so upset, and apparently he wasn't finished explaining it to them yet.

"With the exception of a few, most notably being Miko, Gabriel, Eszter, Zelenka, Kavanagh, Cantle and Taha, your work has been atrocious. You call yourselves scientists and yet I'm stuck correcting your half-assed work at three in the morning so that we don't accidentally blow ourselves up! I have no doubt that each and every one of you must have some form of intelligent gray matter stuck between your ears or else you wouldn't be here, so I am going to suggest you start using it. Take the time to relax when you're not working, enjoy life to its fullest, but when you are on shift I expect one hundred and ten percent from each of you. This is not a game, it is so far from a game I don't think any of you fully comprehend the consequences that each one of your unprocessed thoughts could have. Your work, no matter how insignificant you may think it is, could one day directly affect every single person on every single planet, in both the Pegasus and Milky Way galaxies.

"Now, if _you_ don't think you can handle this pressure then the Daedalus will happily escort you home. If_ I_ don't think you can handle this pressure then the Daedalus will happily escort you home. Atlantis is not a vacation posting made more interesting because it's in a different galaxy!" He was looking around the room again, pausing a moment on the rather shell shocked newbies, who had never experienced his full wrath. "Each one of you has earned your right to be here, now you have to earn your right to stay." He stepped forward, briskly closed his laptop and picked it up. He looked around at everyone one final time, barked out a dismissal and then left the room before everyone had even realized that he had finished chewing them out.

Zelenka stood taller, and couldn't help the satisfied little grin that slipped across his lips as he met Kavanagh's eyes across the room. He didn't like the arrogant man, but at the moment they were both united by the satisfaction of seeing their leader at his best and most scary (at least the most scary that didn't involve death, chaos and destruction). Those that had worked under Rodney the longest recovered the quickest; Miko was positively beaming as she danced out of the room. Others who had worked under Rodney just as long were looking embarrassed, along with the rest of the room. Some of the newer scientists still looked stunned as everyone began shuffling out of the large space, herding to the door like buffalo to the cliff.

Dr. Zambri looked furious.

"He can't possibly talk to us like that," she argued, outraged.

"And why not?" Zelenka found himself asking. "Everything he says is truth, and Dr. McKay knows this more than anyone here."

"He's an arrogant bastard, but he backs it up," Kavanagh supported, before rudely pushing his way out of the room, no doubt to bask in the recognition Rodney had placed on him in front of everyone.

"You wouldn't have said that four weeks ago," another scientist, one who had stayed behind when the Daedalus had made its first heroic appearance, muttered in disdain and Radek turned a harsh glare on him.

"That is true, unfortunately there are times we forget that Dr. McKay is as human as the rest of us. We become so accustomed to his being right that we forget he can be wrong." The man rolled his eyes, and Zelenka didn't like the disrespect in the action at all. He pushed to walk past calling over the crowd to the man. "When you have to do your own job as well as the job of everyone else in this city you can roll your eyes; until then you put up with him because he is the one who will keep you alive." Then he was out of the room and heading towards the lab that Rodney usually worked in. He slowed his pace as he neared, suddenly becoming a little more self-conscious.

Everything he had said was the truth, and though his friend had hurt his feelings, he had to admit to himself that he had forgotten how much pressure the Canadian put upon himself to perform his job. He also tended to forget that Rodney was not always sensitive to other people's feelings and tended to say what he needed to get what he wanted. That didn't make his attitude right, but by this point it was practically expected of the man.

It was with a slight amount of distress that Radek realized he had needed to be reminded of why he trusted and liked Rodney so much. Rodney's little speech had reminded him, and raised his respect for the man, because despite the fact that he had insulted almost every scientific mind in the city, he had also paid them off-handed compliments. He didn't always do that, hardly ever in fact. It would appear that Elizabeth's more subtle political techniques were wearing off on the good doctor.

Zelenka stepped into Rodney's brightly lit lab and adjusted the glasses on his nose, looking around. Miko was sitting tall at her workstation, her hands flying on her keyboard and she worked away. She had an air of satisfaction around her that she rarely carried; she had really needed and deserved that compliment. She looked up as he entered and smiled quickly before turning back to work. Ashley was at the other end, her shoulder length blond hair was pulled back tightly and her lab coat sleeves rolled up past her elbows as she examined a small rotund object carefully. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and she looked as though she was working really hard.

There was no sign of Rodney, at least not until he stepped around the solid high table where the man's computer sat and looked to the floor. Rodney was half hidden beneath a carefully elevated box that was roughly the size of a chair. He had been gone from the meeting for no more than four minutes and he was already deep into his work. Radek watched a moment, listening to the quiet muttering before a triumphant "Aha!" broke the air and he was squirming out from underneath the unknown technology and standing quickly. The satisfied smirk fell off his face as soon as he saw Zelenka, but instead of meeting his eyes Rodney turned and began typing as rapidly as Miko was.

"Dr. Zelenka," he greeted. "Is there something I can do for you?" Radek had been approaching his friend, but he stopped short at the calculated and cool tone.

"I came by to say I thought it was good meeting. At quiet times like this people need reminding of how important their work is."

"And obviously I agree with you, otherwise I wouldn't have held the meeting," Rodney replied with the same clipped tone. Zelenka stared at him; Rodney had never spoken to him this way before, not even when he couldn't remember his name. He took a good look at his friend for the first time in weeks, and his frown deepened. Something was different...he was thinner and paler than usual. The tired bags under his eyes were slightly more pronounced, only that was not such a concern because Rodney had never slept properly (though he would go on and on about how he needed his rest so people would pay more attention to him). But to notice a difference in weight was a little disconcerting, because Rodney was not a slight man, especially not after this last year of training with Sheppard, Teyla and...Ford, but he did not need to lose weight. He was fine where he had been.

"Are you going to stand around and stare all day, or are you going to take heed of my earlier words of wisdom and get to work?" He didn't even look away from his computer screen as he addressed Radek.

"Rodney, are you all right?" The typing stopped, and it wasn't just on Rodney's keyboard.

"Well, not that it's any of your business, but I'm tired. I was up all night correcting incompetent work so excuse me if I'm not my normal sunny self." He proclaimed haughtily before quickly dropping to his knees and underneath his object of study once again. Radek looked at Miko, who shrugged and went back to typing.

"It is understandable, you work hard. Perhaps I will see you at lunch today?"

"Probably not, I'm going to grab something on the run. I've got a lot to do, and so do you if I'm not mistaken, so shouldn't you be off bothering somebody else." It wasn't a question, it was an order to leave him alone. Radek stared, blinked, and then turned to leave the lab, heading over to his current work with the city's control chair. As he left he overheard Rodney agreeing to meet with Dr. Weir, though he sounded as irritated as ever.

Radek would find Carson and Sheppard later today and maybe they would know what was wrong. He hadn't been a very good friend lately, so he could forgive the callous attitude, but now he was a bit worried about Rodney and he wanted to know what they were doing about it.

It was only one hour later that Rodney called another mandatory meeting. This time Radek didn't know what to expect as, once again, he stepped into the large room with the oval table.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

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"I'm sorry, but what did you just say?" Rodney asked, looking at Elizabeth with eyes so sharp, she would even go as far as to say that his gaze was cutting; and he knew perfectly well what she had said. What she was saying. But he wanted her to clarify it, as though he wanted to make sure _she_ understood what she was saying.

She understood all right.

"Rodney, I'm sorry. The orders came from outside the SGC and there was nothing that could be done. They came from the President himself."

"Oh, and your President has the final choice over my standing here at our 'civilian multi-national' complex? Oh, wait, of course he would," he was not taking any care to hold back his sarcasm now. "We can't have a Canadian in charge of something as important as this! So much for being a multi-national organization when he has final say..."

"Rodney, please, I doubt your nationality has anything to do with this, but I can't overrule these orders."

"Just tell me this Elizabeth, did you request that I be replaced?" She couldn't stop her eyes from widening in shock at his question and she looked at him for a long, hard moment. He didn't blink even once as he waited, tightlipped, for her answer.

"Rodney, have things become that bad between us?" She didn't mention Doranda at the end of her question, but she didn't have too. He finally blinked and looked at her hard, searching for an answer in her question. She stared back, appalled that he could ever think that she would just replace him like this, with no warning whatsoever.

What had happened on Doranda: Rodney allowing his ego to take control of his actions. Letting his need to prove that he was always right govern his motives; it had been a mistake, but he knew that, he had apologized and she had thought that any issues between them had been cleared. She'd known he was having a difficult time with things, but she hadn't had any time to ask him personally how he was. It was becoming clear that she should have made the time. She shouldn't have just assumed that he was okay based on the fact that he was still acting as abrasive as usual. And now this was happening, and it made her stomach twist the same way hearing that the wraith would be upon their city in two weeks had. She did not like this at all.

"I've just been a bit stressed out lately," he looked away from her, staring at the paper on her desk that stripped him of his rank. His gaze hardened to crystal, becoming even more than cutting. "Did somebody on Atlantis complain that I was unfit for my post?" And that was a loaded question if she had ever heard one.

"Rodney, I have no idea why they're doing this."

"Oh, come on, Doctor. We both know why they're doing this. I don't have a lot of friends in high places...actually I have virtually no friends in high places, or anywhere else for that matter...more enemies than friends really," he trailed off before snapping back to his focus. "Apparently they saw Doranda as an excuse to get rid of me again."

"We are not getting rid of you, Rodney!" She declared firmly, staring at him hard and stopping him before he could really get started. His face, normally so expressive, was shutting off in a way she had never seen before. She did not like being unable to interpret his emotions. "You might not be head of the science department anymore, at least not until we get this all straightened out, but you are still a valued and necessary member of our city. You're still the chief, just not on paper."

"Elizabeth, as much as I appreciate your kind words, they really don't mean anything. I am no longer the head of the science department. Do you really understand what that means? After everything that we've all been through, after everything we've survived and struggled against and they're throwing me out like yesterday's trash!" He stopped then, frowning hard at the floor. She was actually surprised that that was all he was saying on the subject. His eyes betrayed nothing, but his voice was quietly seething. She almost wished that he would lose himself in a tirade of indignation, because then at least she could search for some way to console him, to respond and react. As it was she had no idea what she could say.

"Well, who is it then? Who's the person that your mighty President thinks will do a better job than I?" He folded his arms across his chest and stood taller. His hands were hidden in his armpits, a move designed to hide their shaking. There was something in his tone that told her, regardless of whom it was, this situation was far from over. It was then that the door to the conference room slid open, and in walked her newest science head and Teyla, smiling together as though they were old friends. Rodney's entire body tensed, but his outward demeanor was simply assessing and, suddenly, eerily calm. Oh, she did not like this at all.

Teyla stopped smiling the moment she saw Rodney, standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest, staring calmly at the new doctor. She looked between them and then to Weir, but Elizabeth was too busy watching this exchange to notice the inquiring glance. The new doctor looked at Rodney, his smile sliding away to a professional and almost apologetic look.

"Dr. Greenwall," Rodney intoned.

"Dr. McKay. It's been a while." Rodney stared at him silently a moment and Elizabeth suddenly had an image of Rodney calmly walking over to the man and choking the last breath from his body. Instead he did the one thing that she had least expected under the circumstances. He smiled. Oh, she could see the strain under it, but for the most part it looked real. That also threw her off, because Rodney only forced himself to smile under pressure when he either wanted something, or when he was trying to be manipulative.

"It has been a while," he agreed. Greenwall held out his hand and Rodney stepped forward immediately to meet him, shaking it firmly. When he pulled away, he looked between Elizabeth and Greenwall before standing tall and proud, not showing any of the anger he must have been working so damn hard to bury. "Well, I'm sure you both have a lot to discuss. If you'll excuse me," he nodded to them all and left the room. A moment later Sheppard waltzed in with Ronon, a puzzled look on his face as he looked over his shoulder at the way he had just come. The look morphed into his happy-go-lucky facade the moment he noticed an unfamiliar face in the room. Elizabeth wished she had taken some Advil before this meeting began.

Maybe a shot of Carson's finest.

"Elizabeth," Sheppard greeted politely. "Shouldn't Rodney be here?" This was going to be a very long meeting.

ooOOooOOoo

Zelenka stood to the side of the room, staring in what he was sure was absolute shock as the _new_ head of the science department smiled around at the large assembled group. Only an hour before Rodney had been rearranging the attitudes of his entire staff in this very room. And only moments before Rodney had stood before them all again, wearing a mask of indifference as he introduced Doctor Archibald Greenwall to his large team. He'd then explained that this Greenwall person would be taking over Rodney's duties as their boss. The fact that there was next to no protest from anyone in the room, and that Rodney had clearly expected this, had been one of the variables that had silenced Zelenka in shock.

Now he looked at his new boss carefully, noting that he seemed very fit, despite appearing a few years older than Rodney himself. He was also tall and had a shock of dark brown hair that was stylishly cut but still looked professional. He was not dressed in the regular science uniform that Rodney donned almost religiously, but in a dark suit that made him appear very confident and in command. He was a good looking man, and Zelenka could tell that he knew it, and he instantly did not like him. This Greenwall was much too charming as he stood there telling them of his credentials and why he was selected as their new boss.

Rodney had left as soon as he could after the introduction and Greenwall had thanked him for the kind welcome. He was all charm, but he was subtly rubbing salt into Rodney's wounds and Zelenka was having great difficulty wrapping his mind around what was happening. How could they replace Rodney with this...person? Why would they? What was the reason? Nobody could possibly be as good for this job as Rodney was, and he had been demoted. This must be one of the most painful experiences of his life and his staff appeared relieved at having him replaced. By the end of the meeting Zelenka's shock was turning into slight nausea. When they were dismissed he felt even more ill as people warmly greeted and welcomed their new boss with an appreciation that they never openly showed for McKay.

When had things become so bad for Rodney? When had he lost the respect that he had earned over the last year and all the years before? When had everyone become so blind?

"Zelenka, right? Dr. Radek Zelenka?" The new science chief's smooth voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned quickly to face this new complication to his life.

"Yes, that is me," he responded and Greenwall held out his hand in greeting.

"Dr. McKay has had nothing but praise for your work over the last year. I look forward to working with you."

"What of Dr. McKay?" He asked neutrally, shaking the man's hand.

"Oh, he is definitely remaining here on Atlantis as one of my top advisors. We would be stupid to dismiss his ingenuity and experience." He looked at Radek through dark brown eyes, friendly and intelligent. "Well, I was hoping you could show me to my new office. I have a lot of work to do and I'd like to get caught up as soon as possible." _Ha! _ Zelenka thought uncharitably. _If it had been Rodney coming to this place, he would have already been caught up._

"Of course," he agreed amiably, "though I'm not sure which office you would like to use, we have several large ones that are unoccupied directly across from the labs..."

"Does the Head of Science not have a designated office?" the man cut Zelenka off, looking slightly put out by the thought.

"Rodney? No, the lab was his office," Zelenka said, which apparently pleased Dr. Greenwall as he stood a bit taller.

"Well, that will do then. Lead me to his old lab please and we'll get started." When they arrived Rodney's things were cleared out as though he had never been there. His bench and those around it were naked and wiped clean and, to Radek, made the room look foreign and wrong. Rodney had known that he would be asked to move. The thought made Zelenka uneasy.

"Well, it's very small, isn't it?" Greenwall announced looking it over and eyeing Miko and Ashley's benches as well.

"He was never really in one place very long," Radek shrugged.

"That sounds like our Dr. McKay. Thank you, Radek, I'm sure you have more important things to do. We'll speak more later." Radek nodded and left abruptly. He needed to find his friend and figure out exactly what the hell was going on.

It took him approximately four minutes to locate the man, and it took that long because he walked as slowly as he could manage, stopping several times to look out several windows as he tried to figure out what he was going to say. However, it turned out he wasn't the first one who had the idea to speak to the sometimes acidic Canadian, and the closer he got to Rodney's room the easier it was to hear the heat behind their words.

"Did you know about this?" Rodney's voice was defensive and accusing as it carried down the corridor.

"Did I _know_ about this?!" was his companions incredulous retort. "If I had known, I would have stopped it!"

"Right. Of course you would have. Look, I have things to do, a new office to set up, people to irritate and a completed project that needs a report."

"Are you serious? Rodney, we need to discuss this, this isn't some inane conversation here!"

"Actually, Colonel, it is. Since I am no longer the head of Atlantis's science department I am no longer a part of SGA's lead team. This means that you no longer need to correspond with me in any way other than to garner information that is important to Atlantis. Even then I suspect the majority of that information will be coming through Dr. Greenwall, so really, you don't need to see me at all for anymore pointless conversations. Maybe now I can actually get some work done, and when did you willingly start speaking to me again anyway?" Rodney spoke fast and angry, snapping his last question off like a whip. Zelenka had stopped just around the corner and was listening carefully, frowning.

"Pointless conversations? Our conversations are never pointless!" Sheppard barked back heatedly, and then there was a moment's silence. "Okay, our conversations aren't _always_ pointless! And for the record I never stopped talking to you and what the HELL do you mean you're no longer on my team! Last I checked I didn't kick you off it!"

"And you don't have to. As head of the science department it is Dr. Greenwall's position to fill, and I'm fairly certain he'll insist on nobody but himself taking that spot. Though, really, I would much rather Zelenka took over. He's got more experience than Greenwall, and is frankly more intelligent, but it's out of my hands." Bitterness was creeping into Rodney's voice.

"Hey, I chose you to be on my team when we started, not the other way around."

"Really, Colonel? Did you think I was going to put some idiot on the lead team and risk not only your lives but the lives of the entire expedition? I might have complained a lot, and been admittedly new to the prospect of true fieldwork, but that position was going to be mine whether you 'chose' me or not," he spit out.

"Well...I... either way, you are the one I want with us, not this Greenhall guy. I can't trust him, Rodney."

"Well then," Rodney's voice was suddenly too sharp, saturated with anger and hurt that had been locked away for too long, "since I haven't had the chance to earn back your trust yet, I'd say you're better off starting with someone new. Someone who hasn't lost it in the first place."

"Rodney-" there was the sound of a door opening and closing very quickly. "Rodney! Damn it! I'm not finished talking to you! Don't you dare lock me out! Rodney!" There was the sound of flesh hitting metal. "Ow! Shit..." a ragged exhalation followed the curse and then words, spoken too softly to hear through heavy metal doors. "I never stopped trusting you, you idiot. I was just mad."

"Telling him without him hearing will not help you make this better." Radek finally stepped around the corner to see Sheppard straighten his slumped shoulders and looked at him suspiciously.

"How long were you there?"

"I remember nothing. Now, maybe you should see Dr. Beckett about your hand." He looked pointedly at the appendage in question and the Colonel flexed it instinctively.

"Its fine, I need to speak with Rodney. Can you get the door open?"

"Yes, of course. It is not the most intelligent man in the city on the other side after all. I can bypass his work easy."

"Right, right...genius in there."

"Is the truth. Besides, I do not think either of you should speak again so soon. You are both too emotional right now. Take some space and talk with him when you are calmer, otherwise you will never be able to convince him you really are his friend."

"Of course I'm his friend Zelenka, would I be here if I wasn't?"

"I do not know. More importantly, he does not know. Maybe you are only here now because you suddenly realize how good of scientist Rodney is and do not want him off your team."

"I knew that way before today, and I sure as hell am here now as a friend."

"Perhaps we should have been saying that a few weeks ago, when Rodney could have really used one." Sheppard glared at him with his 'I will cut you in many painful places' look and Zelenka swallowed uncomfortably, but he didn't back down. Sheppard was a dangerous man, but he would never hurt one of his own...at least not intentionally. He hoped.

"Things were complicated then," Sheppard spat out.

"And look at them now," he responded softly. The livid man turned his glare on the door and stared as though he could see what was happening on the other side, like he was superman.

"I screwed up."

"You are not alone, Colonel. I think most of Atlantis has screwed up this time, myself included. I just hope we will be able to fix it."

John Sheppard left at that and Radek stood outside Rodney's door for a few minutes, just staring at it. Things hadn't been great between them since Doranda, but Radek had been coming around. Forgiving Rodney had not been easy for him; being a friend of Rodney's was stressful enough, being a friend while dealing with a slight loss of trust on both sides was just unpleasant. He sighed, pushed his glasses up on his nose and was about to contact Rodney to be let in when the door slid open in front of him.

"I know you have actual work to do, so you had better not stand around uselessly any longer. Come in, say what you need to say, and then go work on impressing your new boss with your adequate intelligence." Radek stepped in through the door, around a pair of shoes that had been left exactly where they had been toed off, and into Rodney's small apartment. Rodney had already moved to his balcony, a gentle breeze ghosting through his open glass door. Radek walked past the bed and stepped over a pile of dirty laundry, holding back a sigh of distaste. Rodney was often so caught up in his own mind that he forgot any semblance of housecleaning. He claimed that he only came here to sleep anyway, so it did not matter what state it was in, as long as the bed was there and he did his laundry when he had to.

Radek joined Rodney on the balcony, leaning against the protective railing and making sure there was a comfortable amount of space between them. Despite Rodney's fairly casual insults there was anger coming off of him in waves.

"He is an asshole. I do not think he will be here very long," Radek announced.

"As thrilled as I am that you noticed, that's not the point. The point is that he's here in the first place, and he's making all the right friends. They're practically singing about my demotion in the labs." Then he mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath and continued to stare straight ahead, refusing to look at Radek.

"What was that?"

"This is becoming monotonous," he declared more clearly, but Radek was unsure if it was the same words he had mumbled. "Let's use Rodney McKay, our genius, and then throw him away when we're done, but its okay, he's just desperate enough that he'll come back whenever we need him! God, I should have stayed in Canada."

"I am glad that you did not." It hurt to see Rodney in this state, knowing as he did how many times the man had saved them since arriving in Atlantis, and how not a single voice - not even his - had protested when he'd been replaced. If Rodney heard the apology in his voice now, he gave no sign.

"People are stupid."

"Yes, we have been. I am sorry." Rodney's stance stiffened, but he still didn't look over at him. Radek could see the tension in the broad shoulders barely hidden by his thin blue shirt, and he could feel his distress. There was a long moment of silence and Radek repositioned his glasses four times, straightened his collar and shifted on his feet. A silent Rodney was not something he was used to. A silent Rodney was not thinking about anything science related, but something very personal. Then Rodney inhaled deeply and there was a shift in the ambiance that raised the hairs on the back of Radek's neck. He was not always the most perceptive man, but he knew without a doubt he would not like what Rodney had just decided, what he was about to say.

"Yes well, whatever. I screwed up, there's no reason to apologize to me. Now, you have work to do, so I suggest you go do it." Rodney ordered and Radek realized that he was shutting him out. Completely.

"Rodney please, we both get carried away with emotions. We need to work together to fix this..."

"Fix this? Fix this!" He took a deep breath and continued to stare over the ocean. "There is nothing to fix, Zelenka. I suggest you leave and don't bring this conversation up again with anyone." Radek stared at his friend, at a loss for words. There was nothing in his voice past thick determination, and this determination was forcefully dismissing Radek from his life. Radek stood, pulling away from the railing. He stared at Rodney for a long moment, noting the strain in his body, and then he pushed away from the railing and left. This was not over, but at the moment he knew he had to let it rest. The door to Rodney's quarters slid shut behind him, and nobody bore witness to the scientist within as he slid to the ground on his balcony, and hugged his knees in silence.

ooOOooOOoo


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

ooOOooOOoo

Rodney walked into his room at the same brisk pace he walked everywhere on Atlantis, his controlled step halting only as he'd passed through his doors, and he listened very carefully until he heard the soft sigh of it sealing shut. In an instant the calm he had pulled over himself like a giant safety blanket disappeared. His anger and frustration bubbled violently to the surface and he twisted sharply on his feet, and slammed his fist into the unmoving metal of his wall. The action was satisfying as hell, not because it made him feel better, but because it immediately gave him something other than his current thoughts to focus on.

"Ow! Shit! Son of a...Damn it!" The pain that wrapped around his left hand traveled sharply up his forearm and into his shoulder, vibrating a few moments before it slowly began to dissolve away until it was nothing more than a strong and annoying ache across his knuckles. Oh God, his mind must be deteriorating if he was intentionally hurting himself! His poor hand! He pursed his lips in irritation and sighed. Okay, maybe he wasn't _intentionally_ hurting himself, he was just relieving tension in a way that was completely new to him and extremely counterproductive to his physical state.

Damn, that had hurt.

He glared as two of his knuckles began to leak thin crimson lines of blood down the back of his hand. The bleeding only increased as he carefully uncurled his fingers to inspect the damage, forgoing the complaints of pain that would have been loud and unbearable had he been in a public setting. Not that anyone would care how he felt these days regardless. Well, Beckett might...but he was a doctor and he was forced to care by default. Rodney sighed heavily again, his eyes misting over a moment as he stared at his hand. The blood was starting to drip onto the floor.

"God, I miss my cat," he muttered to himself, apropos of nothing, and ignored how miserable and pathetic his voice sounded in the empty room. His cat, he knew, would have been glad to see him, even if it was only for food and a nice back rub. At least Aris appreciated him and took the time to remind him that he wasn't alone, as he had so often felt. He had been furious when the SGC had refused to let him bring Aris along as his personal item. But rules were rules, and when it had come down to it the last thing Rodney had wanted to do was risk the life of the one being that actually liked him.

He stared at his hand for a few more long moments before he broke out of his daze and, muttering darkly, he stepped into his small bathroom. He stuck his hand underneath the delicate looking faucet and then jerked it back sharply, hissing as the water stung his wounds. He reminded himself that it really was a minor pain compared to other things he had experienced recently, and he needed to stop being such a baby.

That kind of foolish complaining and posturing was just fine when in the company of others, but it was utterly wasted when he was alone. There was simply no point in being crabby when it couldn't be spread to enlighten others, not that anyone took his complaints seriously.

His hand was shaking when he pulled it out from under the lukewarm water and the splits in his skin immediately started to blur red across his flesh as it mixed with the water. He reached under the sink and pulled out the rather large and extensive first aid kit he kept stockpiled for just such an emergency, and easily flipped open the clasps with his right hand. At least he'd had the presence of mind to damage the hand that was (though very slightly) less useful to him. He liked to consider himself ambidextrous, but on a bad day he preferred to rely on his right hand. He disinfected the tiny wounds quickly and efficiently applied a cauterizing cream that finally stopped the bleeding, before he applied an anti-inflammatory to his swelling flesh. He was going to pay for his loss of control in the morning.

_Story of his life._

With the band-aids in place he shirked his rather smelly blue t-shirt in favor of a well worn black shirt that sported a faded red maple leaf. He'd had this shirt for a long time. Grey sweatpants completed his outfit and he slouched back to his living room, stopping only for a glass of water and a powerbar from his rather large stockpile.

The day he had just suffered through was now officially on the top of his 'ten most horrible and terrifying days of his life' list, Rodney decided with conviction. Considering how many days he now had fighting for a spot on that list (which included far too many Atlantis experiences), meant that it had been above and beyond bad. The problem was that he thought he'd been prepared for it. But how well could you truly prepare to have the people you care for most turn away with jealousy or indifference? How well does one prepare for betrayal by those he'd literally given blood, sleep and tears to protect? Just thinking about it had the anger from earlier building within him again, and he abruptly collapsed onto his stiff couch. He hated being controlled by such harmful emotions and he showed his displeasure by roughly dragging his laptop towards him and stabbing at the power button. As he stared at the beeping screen, he peeled open his meal, staring at it in disgust before taking a bite, chewing and swallowing, barely noticing the flavor.

Powerbars had always been something of a treat for him, ready to supply a boost of sugar to his system at a moment's notice, easy to pack and carry around, as close to non-perishable as you could get and guaranteed to be citrus-free. He had always been happy to forgo a few meals while he was working so long as he had the tasty treats around. But now they reminded him of all he'd lost. Sadly, he craved what passed for the normal, home cooked food that the mess hall served; craved the companionship that those meals had once provided, even knowing as he did now that his presence was unwelcome. He tossed the powerbar on the table in disgust and sat back, hugging his arms to his chest.

It hurt, but he could ignore the satisfied smirks that were aimed at his back, from those scientists that obviously felt he had earned his comeuppance. The majority of them had never really liked him in the first place, though he had begun to believe that he had been making positive progress in that area up until a few weeks ago. He'd received similar responses from the rest of the expedition, too. Now he had to deal with conversations cutting off abruptly when he entered a room, derisive sniggers as he walked down the corridor, even the refusal, on one occasion, to share a simple transporter ride. He could pretend it didn't hurt, was actually very good at that, but in the privacy of his own quarters he ached with the loss of those friendships.

"You're losing it, Rodney," he told himself. "And you can't afford to do that, nobody can." He rubbed at his tired eyes, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep for a few hours yet with all the work he had to do, and he pressed a little harder than necessary to stop the moisture that threatened to gather.

On top of this absolute hell that was his current social standing in Atlantis it was just over four weeks ago since he had let his ego run amuck and, in an absolutely horrifying and beautiful cataclysm of events, destroyed a solar system. Almost killing John. Rodney still didn't know if he would ever be able to forgive himself for that, and it looked like the rest of Atlantis was finally on the same page with him.

He'd never been a social person, but he'd been practically untouchable since Doranda and it brought back painful memories of his life before Atlantis. He had wanted friends, wanted to be a friend, but those around him had only been interested in what he could do for them and left without a wayward glance once they had it. He should have known that wouldn't change, but he'd come to believe it could. Carson, John and Radek – they had made him believe it could, until Doranda.

They may not have tried to hurt him intentionally, but their actions could not have cut deeper than by confirming his suspicions – he was tolerated because of the things he could do, but he had no real friends on Atlantis. On some level he'd always suspected it, but to have it confirmed in the labs earlier had re-opened wounds he thought long-healed. Not one person had stood with him against Greenwall today. Not Radek, not the dozen or so scientists from the original expedition, and certainly not any of the replacements.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He hadn't meant to deceive anyone. He had truly believed the weapon would work, that he could solve everyone's problems and the weight of not one city or one planet, but of entire galaxies had lifted from his shoulders. But sometimes scientists forgot to assess all the variables, or failed to recognize when new variables appeared. It was something that happened, it just didn't happen to him. Hardly ever. And he hadn't handled it well. He had been hurting from his failure, and they left him to deal with it alone. God, he would have willingly sat through ten football games a night that first week if it meant having someone around to remind him that he wasn't alone.

Over four weeks of this had devastated Rodney. He could understand the anger, especially from Radek, and had even expected it for a short while as things went back to normal. He had more than earned the cold shoulders, the loss of John's trust, and the glare when Zelenka refused his apology. He just hadn't expected to be left out of the 'things going back to normal' bit.

His position on Atlantis made failure something that he could not afford. There had been several instances when he had failed to save the day over the course of the last year, and it had taken many hours of discussion with Heightmeyer before he could properly shove it to the back of his mind and ignore it. That time when the Wraith were attacking and he couldn't get the chair to function properly to deploy the nuclear armed puddle jumpers had made the top of his list (right next to the deaths of every person he had failed on Atlantis so far). That failure had almost cost John's life too. Apparently he had failed enough times to finally get the boot, and they were thrilled that he was no longer the head of Atlantis' science department.

So Sheppard and Weir no longer liked or trusted him, despite the fact that they were both "apparently" upset that he was no longer on their senior staff. He always expected people to stop liking him; he didn't expect them to question his intelligence. Their outright refusal to publicly accept him after Doranda damaged his credibility, and despite his screw up he was still the smartest and, as far as he was concerned, most dedicated scientist they could ever dream of having.

But he could not ignore Greenwall, strutting around the labs like some demented peacock, preening to his already devoted followers. He couldn't ignore how Greenwall already had a few personal items strewn over Rodney's lab bench and that every time he wanted to see Rodney he made sure the meeting took place in that very same space, silently rubbing it all in. He couldn't ignore the way that Greenwall belittled every suggestion he made, or how he switched people's duties, moving them from the projects Rodney had decided they should work on to the ones they had requested and he had turned down.

One day and he could already see that Radek had been given more than his fair share of duties, which would inevitably pull him away from much more important tasks. The Czech hadn't refused a single new charge though, but Rodney had seen the vein throbbing on his forehead, barely hidden by the wild hair that flopped over it, and had objected on his behalf. It was bad enough he was being removed but to remove Radek from those projects as well was sheer folly and far too dangerous for Atlantis. He had informed Greenwall that Radek had enough work to do and if he was going to delegate his tasks he should select someone with more time on his hands. That had led to Rodney being very blatantly, and publicly, dismissed with orders not to return until he felt he could provide what amounted to useful advice. But… Greenwall had shifted some of the workload away from Radek.

So, where was Rodney now on the grand emotional scale of things? Ah yes: He went from devastation to anger to bitterness, and this had been stewing for quite a while. Frankly he was impressed that the only thing he'd managed to hurt so far was his hand and some personal items that could easily be replaced on the Daedalus's next trip around. Rodney had reached his impasse. If he wasn't so upset about the entire situation he would have been impressed with himself for waiting so long for things to change. Patience wasn't in his nature; he was used to this treatment so he generally refused personal attachment. This was the last time he would make that mistake. Now he needed to move on.

No more waiting around for people to realize that he's as human as the next person, and that while he is a genius and has yet to meet someone smarter than himself, he can make mistakes. He had no illusions about his faults, either. He was an asshole, and that helped build a distance from others, to keep himself above them and not become too attached. It generally stopped them from looking past his rather abrasive nature and realize that all he genuinely wanted to do was help. It kept them from taking advantage of that fact.

Well, he still wanted to help, and damn it, Atlantis was the first place that had ever truly tested his mind and provided him with distractions to tire himself out enough to actually shut his mind off and get at least four hours of normal, uninterrupted, sleep. Atlantis engaged him and he wasn't about to trust the safety of these people or this city with anyone else, but especially Greenwall.

And of course, when you think of the devil he usually appears. His door chime rang then, loud and impatient and he just knew who was on the other side of the door. He stood up quickly, wishing he hadn't decided to forgo his normal attire in favor of his more comfortable clothing. He'd barely made it to his feet when the door opened and Greenwall strolled in, looking like the friendly, intelligent man that Rodney knew without a doubt he was pretending to be...the friendly part at least. He hadn't even waited to be let in, taking advantage of the fact that Rodney hadn't locked the door. As soon as it closed Greenwall lost the cheerful friendly look that seemed to fit him like a second skin.

ooOOooOOoo

"Please, let yourself in," Rodney snapped, crossing his arms defensively over his chest and glaring as angrily as he could. They were alone now, which didn't make him feel at all confident but at least allowed him to show his true feelings towards this sorry excuse for a scientist. Archie sneered in response, a carefully practiced curve of his lips that was insulting and dangerous all at once.

"Come now, Rodney, don't pretend you weren't waiting for me to show up."

"Actually, I had expected you to pop in last night, along with everyone else."

"I calculated that you'd be busy and didn't want to risk us being interrupted. We have important things to discuss."

"You did that calculation all in your head, did you? Congratulations. I'd offer you a beverage, but I'd rather see you shrivel up from dehydration."

"You know, I missed your biting third grade insults. I haven't had any decent laughs in the last few years."

"Shut up and say what you came here to say," Rodney snarled, taking a few steps to place his couch between himself and the handsome, clean-cut man who was casually examining his room as if he'd been invited to. Rodney was beginning to feel seriously violated in a place that he had once considered a safe haven. But, seeing as he no longer had any official control in Atlantis he was positive that nowhere was really safe anymore. Not with Greenwall here. "And while you're talking, why don't you tell me who you blackmailed to get this position? Because I know that intelligence and hard work didn't have anything to do with it, scientifically at least."

"You always were the first to question my knowledge of anything related to science."

"With good reason! I know you're an idiot, everybody else was either too afraid to acknowledge it or care."

"Well, apparently I'm more intelligent than you are at the moment. I knew, once I found out where you had gone, that you weren't going to make any friends here, but you've apparently graduated to an entirely new level of asshole. These people honestly hate you." There was a physical pain in his stomach hearing that fact from his worst personal enemy, especially since it was true. Greenwall laughed at him. "Here I was thinking I'd have to do some serious talking to win them over, but they were so thrilled to replace you that they barely batted an eyelash at your departure. After everything you've done for them." He paused and cocked his head, considering Rodney carefully, smile firmly in place. "You must have made a hell of an impression with Doranda."

"Go big or go home," Rodney muttered and, despite himself, he looked away from the older man across from him, clenching his fists so tightly he felt the nails digging into the palm of his hand. "What do you want, Archie?"

"I'm not an idiot when it comes to science, despite your claims. This position here, it's mine now. I want you to understand that."

"Because it was so ambiguous before this moment," Rodney snorted. There was a dangerous glint in Greenwall's eyes as he stepped closer, only the soft gray couch between them and Rodney stared at him in disgust. He had had one of the absolutely worst days of his life, and this man before him was the cause. For the entire day Greenwall had done everything humanly possible to undermine Rodney's previous authority, from criticizing his organizational methods to reassigning individuals to different projects. Projects that Rodney had not placed them on for a reason! It had been a day filled with hidden insults, mocking glances and a less blatant display of dominance than the one he was so heartily putting forth now. If looks could kill Rodney was hoping that his would induce a heart attack. Unfortunately, it looked like he hadn't yet mastered that power.

"You remember the threats from before no doubt," Greenwall intoned casually.

"I don't have any family here that you could hurt, and as you well know I don't have any friends."

"No, you don't, but I've read enough of your personal reports to know that you care about these people all the same." So he had already illegally hacked into Rodney's personal recordings. It was a good thing he always completely eradicated any of the files that were too personal, the ones that he used as real therapy. "You know what this means."

"Sure, I don't have to be the genius that I am to understand that I won't interfere with your command."

"Very good, Rodney, and you said it with such anger and disgust. You've changed."

"Really? I was certain I've always treated you this way; I must have not been trying hard enough."

"Yes, but now it's not so much disgust at threatening you, it's threatening others that has you pissed off." Then, quicker than Rodney had assumed he could move, he was standing beside him and leaning right into his personal space, breathing into his ear. "You know I'm not alone, that I brought reliable help with me. Watch your step, you never know who could trip and get hurt." He lingered a moment and Rodney restrained himself from putting some of the moves he had learned in his time on Sheppard's team to use, before Greenwall mercifully stepped back. He smiled and headed to the door.

"I'll expect the rest of your notes to be ready to hand over during our meeting tomorrow. You'll be given your new duties then." And he was gone, leaving Rodney in a room that suddenly felt colder than Ontario's -30 degree Celsius winters and reminding him that turning Sheppard and Radek away the day before had been the right thing to do.

He slowly moved around to his couch and sank back into it, giving in to the feelings of despair and holding his face in his hands. He hated him. He hated that bastard so much he could taste the rage on his tongue. For the first time since he had come to Atlantis, he felt truly trapped. This was going to be one hell of a fight with nobody in his corner to believe anything he said, but he'd be damned if he was going to leave his people, leave his city, under the devil's control.

That decided he sat up straight and reached for the discarded powerbar. It tasted like sawdust and he chased it down with a sip of tepid water, then leaned forward and activated the dormant laptop. He had reports to prepare. As he reached out and began to type his first criticisms he realized that, as was his way, he had moved from devastation to anger to bitterness, and now he would shut it all out and move on once more. He didn't have time to waste on high hopes of friendship and mutual respect. He had a job to do and people to protect and that, if nothing else, was the one thing he would always excel at.

ooOOooOOoo


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

ooOOooOOoo

Five days. It had been five surreal days since Archie Greenwall had become the new commander in chief for the science department. Which meant that while most of Atlantis had been quietly celebrating, the ungrateful bastards, others had been absolutely miserable, especially one particular Lieutenant Colonel, who had been smiling as though he had invented coffee while a dark cloud threatening destruction trembled above his head. Carson decided to risk the storm and sat across from John's selected table in the mess hall.

"Ye haven't sorted things out with McKay then, 'ave ye?" He jumped right in with both feet. John paused in poking at his salad and looked up at him a moment, before casting his dark eyes back to his plate. The thunder rumbled.

"What makes you think that?"

"The fragile wounded look upon yer face gave it away."

"I don't look fragile," the soldier instantly retorted, mock-offense replacing his dour mood.

"Ye were doing a fine imitation a moment ago, and believe me, I know what I saw."

"Well, it wasn't fragile. It was manly angst."

"Ah, 'manly' angst. I see."

"I'm glad you do."

"Right. Well then, wy haven't ye spoken to Rodney yet? Haven't both of you been dwellin' long enough?" Sheppard stuffed a forkful of salad into his mouth, no doubt to give himself a moment to think of what to say. Carson frowned at his friend. He had really hoped that the two men would have moved beyond this situation by now. It had been weeks since Doranda! And now this disaster with Rodney being temporarily replaced had turned a previously emotional mess into a meltdown. Apparently Sheppard had been thinking along the same lines as he swallowed his food and began poking at his salad again, his eyes focused in that almost dangerous way of his that made so many of his men salute sharply as he walked past in the corridors.

"It's been five weeks, two days and approximately thirteen hours since Doranda and five days since Greenwill slid into Rodney's place with absolutely no warning whatsoever. I mean, what the hell is going on here? How did we go from there to here? Rodney said some things, I said some things and we just haven't found the time outside of mission briefs to talk about any of it and now he's completely shut me out and I can't seem to track him down." Carson raised his eyebrows, not at the petulant tone but at the idea that Rodney was difficult to track down. Just follow the disgruntled scientists. Somehow Carson was sure that, whether he was the hotshot of the labs or not, Rodney wouldn't stop yelling at people he thought were being stupid.

"And by difficult to track down," John continued, as though reading Carson's very thoughts, "I mean he's never in his room at a decent time and he's rarely at any specific lab and, for some reason, he's been coming to the mess hall whenever I'm not here."

"I don't suppose ye thought to have the computers look for 'im?"

"If he doesn't want to make any public appearances or come find me, then I'm not going to convince the computers to track the brainiac down."

"Because Rodney never gets caught up in his work and forgets his meals? Because he isn't too proud and stubborn to ask forgiveness more than once? Especially now," Carson intoned. Sheppard glared at his salad. "Oh, honestly, you two are so bloody annoyin'. It's like watching me kid sister an' 'er best friend squabble because they didn't both make it into the school play."

"Are you saying we fight like little girls?"

"With some obvious differences. Ye've already forgiven him John, why don't ye just find him and let 'im know? Because frankly we've all got a slightly more pressing matter to deal with that involves Rodney not being where he should be."

"It's not that simple." The man ran a hand through his hair, unintentionally spiking it in a different direction, and leaned back in his seat, slouching with a deceivingly relaxed manner.

"Why not?"

"Because I told him he had to earn my trust back and we haven't been in any situations yet for me to tell him he never really lost it." John glared at what was left of his salad, the poor foliage had been shredded almost into mush. "And now he doesn't want to hear anything I have to say, and he's not even on my team anymore and the worst part is that Greenhill isn't nearly as insufferable as Rodney."

Carson stared at him, ignoring the fact that that was the second time he had misspoken Greenwall's name, and resisted the urge to lean over the table and smack the git across his head. Instead he put upon his most aggrieved sigh and rubbed at his eyes, wondering why these two always had to make things so bloody difficult. He also instantly began to worry about the implications of what John was saying. A closed off Canadian genius who thinks he's lost the trust of perhaps the best friend he'd ever had _on top_ of loosing his treasured position within Atlantis was a problem. A big one.

"John, listen to me lad. Rodney, he needs to know that ye trust him and that ye still want to be his friend."

"What are we, back in sixth grade?"

"You just might be! Listen, I've known him a bit longer than you 'ave, and I know he's taken this hard."

"I know that." John made a face at him. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not faring all that well either."

"I don't think yer quite hearing me," he said, perhaps a bit more sternly than necessary, but he had to get the point across. Sheppard's dark eyes looked up into his and he stared, waiting for Beckett to finish. The gaze was intense and a bit disconcerting in a way that was uniquely John's, but it was nothing Carson hadn't stared down in the infirmary before. "If Rodney thinks you don't trust him anymore, and you still do, it's going to be difficult for him to believe you. He takes his failures seriously, has a bit of an issue when it comes to screwing up, and he deals by shutting people out. You need to speak to him before this gets any worse. It's been too long already."

"I know!" Sheppard glared at Carson a moment before becoming distracted by a fresh group of people entering the mess hall, Greenwall among them. Carson followed John's gaze and assessed the athletic man, different from Rodney in so many ways, especially with the following that he had garnered. Actually, he looked a little embarrassed about it as he poured his coffee quickly and then left, a few people following him back out. It was a shame he was such a nice guy, because he wasn't going to be sticking around as far as Carson was concerned. He had already launched a very elaborate, very detailed, very long and professional report to several individuals at the head of the Stargate Project stating exactly how idiotic they were for agreeing and allowing this command change; and he knew for a fact that Elizabeth and Sheppard had done the same. John watched Greenwall leave and then slouched even further in his chair. "I need to speak with him," he announced with determination. "He's been avoiding me way too long. When we get back from this afternoon's mission, you're going to help me track him down." Carson grinned at him then, a devious glint in his eyes.

"I'd be glad to, lad. Rodney might be a genius, but we're both far from stupid. We'll pin him down alright."

But in the end, they didn't, because Sheppard and his team didn't report back from their mission at the scheduled time. In fact, they were six hours overdue by the time they managed to limp hastily through the gate with Greenwall carrying most of Teyla's weight and Sheppard draped unceremoniously over Ronon's shoulder.

Carson had been standing by with an emergency team the entire time, watching as Elizabeth wore a pattern in the floor between the gate room and her office every few minutes. The wait was tense, it always was, but he had been tense for more reasons than just waiting to see what trouble Atlantis's lead team had gotten itself into this time. In the six hours he had been standing there he had not seen Rodney enter the gateroom even once to see what was happening.

Zelenka had come in on several occasions, and once Carson had asked if he had seen the Canadian at all. The Czech had shaken his head negatively, but after a moment of shared silence he had quietly stated that despite his absence, he was sure Rodney was making sure things were okay. Of course Carson assumed that that was the case, but to not have Rodney in the gate room declaring certain death and doom and demanding they send a rescue team immediately was just wrong. Somehow it set the balance of the entire place off, but if anyone else noticed they didn't comment and Carson had just continued waiting in the tense area for his friends to come home.

As soon as all four of them were back in Atlantis the gate shut down and Carson was the first one to them, listening intently as Ronon described John's injury. His staff was right on his heels as Ronon carefully placed his precious cargo on the gurney that had been pushed up beside him. Several others took Teyla from Dr. Greenwall and helped her onto her own bed. She tried very hard to keep the pain from her face but couldn't help grunting as they gently lifted her legs up.

"Ronon, Dr. Greenwall, what happened over there?" Elizabeth demanded as soon as the patients were out of the men's care. Carson would have liked to have stayed and listened to the answer to that question, but he was more concerned with Sheppard being unconscious as they wheeled him to the nearest transport and, from there, to the infirmary.

ooOOooOOoo

Elizabeth watched as the medical team efficiently removed their two patients from the room, making sure to keep an air of professionalism over her worry. She turned back to the two men left standing from the team, noting that Greenwall was panting from the exertion but otherwise appeared to be okay. Ronon was breathing normally. It was Dr. Greenwall that answered her though, even as he frowned worriedly after his new teammates.

"We were ambushed," he declared, turning to face her.

"That planet was supposed to be uninhabited." She responded immediately and looked at him with concern as he nodded.

"Our scans said it was, but the natives had other ideas. We were detained for a few hours in a cave, but we managed to escape. Sheppard and Emmagan were injured while we were running back to the gate."

"Why didn't we detect them?"

"I didn't get any proper readings off of them, but if I had to guess I'd say their molecular structure is closer to plants than mammals. If that's actually the case then our scans would have declared them a part of the planet's vegetation." She stared at him a moment, noting for the first time that his eyes were green, but not nearly as vivid as John's. They were watery, a bit more like her own.

"You were attacked by plant people?" That was a new one in the Pegasus galaxy.

"Yes, I think so. We'll know more when Dr. Beckett analyzes this sample." He held up a cloth that looked like it had been saturated in some form of milky liquid. "One of the natives cut themselves and we collected their dressing as we escaped."

"Very good," she nodded approvingly. "Get the sample to Beckett and have them check you both over. We can leave the mission debriefing until later. Nice work." He grinned at the complement, looking like she had just made his day, and walked out of the gateroom.

"How was he?" She asked Ronon as soon as Greenwall was gone from the room.

"He was calm and handled himself well. He doesn't talk as much as McKay, but our retreat was fast and efficient." She raised her eyebrows at that last comment and he shrugged in response. "I got used to McKay not shutting up." That wasn't why she had raised her eyebrows. She had raised them because she felt that he wasn't completely satisfied but had nothing negative to report. She smiled at Ronon and went back to her office, closing the multiple doors and sitting heavily in her seat. She didn't dislike Archie. He was growing on her, and hearing that he handled himself well and efficiently while facing imminent danger was great news. It was just that she had been hoping that he would turn out to be some kind of flop so that it would be easier to reinstate Rodney. It appeared that Greenwall's impeccable record hadn't lied about him at all, and it was becoming clearer and clearer to her that he was fully qualified for the position as Atlantis's chief scientist, which didn't bode well for Rodney. Her friend wasn't going to like this, and there was nothing she could really do about it.

The other problem was that she had only seen Rodney once a day since he had been replaced. The meetings they had were official, designed so she could get an update on how well Rodney's roles were being taken over by Archie. They were painful meetings that didn't include any of the usual snark or sarcastic humour that Rodney could always be counted on bringing to the table. They were short and cut directly to the point, so at least that aspect of Rodney's personality remained, but they were also cold. Rodney was miserable and he was doing his best to hide it.

Greenwall had stated on several occasions that McKay was being a great help as he became acquainted with his role in Atlantis, and he seemed completely sincere. He hadn't stated what Rodney was working on yet, but he had said that he was making sure that he worked on things that were suited to his caliber. She wished Rodney would tell her these things himself, but he was being extremely difficult on the whole subject. She supposed that went a long way in telling her exactly how he was handling his new standing in Atlantis.

She was finding the change difficult to adjust to. She had even accidentally called Rodney about a problem the day before and had been extremely embarrassed when he had politely told her to contact the department head before disconnecting. It was going to take a while to adapt, and she didn't want to get used to it. However, if Greenwall continued to work as well as he was, the chances for Rodney regaining his status in Atlantis, despite the complaints delivered back to earth about the entire situation, were diminishing. All she needed was an excuse, just one excuse that Greenwall wasn't up to par and she could override her orders and reinstate Rodney as the head of science. That scenario was looking less and less likely, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to normal...or at least what constituted as normal for Atlantis. It was times like these that she really hated the twists life threw at her. At all of them.

With a sigh she activated her radio.

"Dr. Beckett? What's the status of our patients?" It took a moment for the doctor to respond and she held her breath in worry at the delay. She hadn't seen any blood on Sheppard, but that didn't mean he wasn't seriously injured.

"Ah, Dr. Weir. They're both going to be right as rain," Carson finally announced and she let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. "Teyla has twisted her knee fairly severely so she'll be unavailable for any off world missions for a few weeks. John got a rock to the noggin, but his skull is as thick as I suspected and he'll be released tomorrow morning so long as no complications arise overnight. I'll release him for active duty no earlier than next week."

"It's good to hear they're going to be okay. I'll be down to see them in a few hours, thank you doctor."

"Yer welcome." She closed the connection and leaned back in her chair, relieved that they were going to be okay. Now there was nothing else she could do except get back to work.

ooOOooOOoo

Rodney calmly reached up and disconnected his radio, pretending he had been scratching his ear in case anyone happened to look his way. The sophisticated system was voice activated and programmed so that it instantly connected with the first name it recognized and held that two-way connection until it was disconnected. It was terrific really, even though he'd never really devoted much of his valuable time admiring it before recently. The system actually adapted to each individual within Atlantis, loading their tones, their accents, the pitch of their voice and even the wavelengths that a voice was carried on.

It went so far as to remember every individual the communicator ever contacted via the link in order to calculate the possibilities of contacting them in the future so that it could increase the speed of connection and still create a link even if the name wasn't fully completed by simply following statistics. It was remarkable, yet as remarkable as it was, it was even better now that he had fixed his to link to whatever channel he chose, regardless of any 'security' procedures it was supposed to protect against. He even had access to the overhead speakers and recorders, which gave him the option of not only listening to individual conversations over the radio, but to entire rooms.

It was how he had followed the progress of his teams...ex-teams return from P9X 124 from a distance.

It was also how he accidentally discovered that Crewman Alder and Dr. Hensley were in a slightly more intimate relationship than their friendship had suggested. That had been more of an earful then he'd ever needed to hear.

Did he have to check in on his old team this way? No. He could have gone down to the gateroom whenever he felt the urge. Nobody would stop him, as he still had full access to be there. But then he would have been displaying his concern publicly, and the last thing he needed to do was allow Greenwall to figure out whom he really cared about in the expedition. It was hard enough knowing the man was willing to threaten the general population, but giving him individual targets was not an option. Especially when a handful of those targets would be traveling with him to foreign planets where _anything_ could happen.

Rodney looked at his computer screen and glared for a moment, not giving a damn about the power fluctuations or crystal arrangements within the hexagonal shaped object sitting on the floor beside him (it was probably just a sophisticated version of Nintendo). Sheppard had a minor concussion and Teyla had a twisted knee. This was good. Not good in the sense that they were hurt, but it meant they wouldn't be going back out in the field any time soon. Which in turn would give Rodney a chance to figure out exactly how he was going to prove to everyone what a manipulating bastard Greenwall truly was! He had screwed with Rodney's life a little too severely in the past for him to forget, and he wasn't going to allow him to get the better of him again. Greenwall had some brains for science, but he wasn't competent as the head of the department, no matter what his credentials said or what people thought.

Rodney knew the man's exact level of competence, and he had even gone so far as to log an official complaint against him a few years in the past (long after University). It had been two weeks after that that Rodney had learned why people didn't try to discredit him for being the idiot he was. Everything that happened then, and he meant _everything_, had been completely wiped from the records. As far as Rodney knew there wasn't even a post-it note left to commemorate what he had gone through. Nothing but a highly classified document that only one person had access to.

This had created a lot of bitterness, a lot of anger, but Rodney had done his best to keep a happy face (as much as he ever did) and move on. There was so much he wanted to accomplish in his life and if making the best of a brutal situation (by completely ignoring it the bastards!) was the only way to get what he wanted, then so be it. He'd naively thought another galaxy would have been far enough away to escape to. But it seemed Greenwall had managed to find a way to finally worm his way fully into the Stargate program. And like a skillfully targeted missile, managed to seek out and destroy Rodney.

But despite all of that, did nobody else think this entire situation was ridiculously abrupt other than himself? Seriously? It was just...it was just…he lost his train of thought and blinked at the screen in front of him. Something was…not right. He canted his head towards the door, not seeing anyone standing there watching them, and then he looked around the room, his technological sixth sense suddenly tuning him into possible stupidity. His eyes narrowed onto the screen of one of the new scientists; a kid who was only a few years out of whatever university that deemed him smart enough to graduate. The guy was almost as arrogant as Kavanagh, but without the mental capacity to back it up as far as Rodney was concerned. Mind you, he still had the potential to learn, it just took time that really shouldn't have been used in Atlantis.

Rodney stood from his seat abruptly, startling the scientists who were sharing, _sharing_ his workbench. Oh, the humiliation! But he had more important things to worry about and he headed straight for his intended target. He didn't say a thing as he sidled up next to the seated young man and then abruptly pulled the keyboard out from under his fingers, situating it pointedly in front of himself.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing! Give that back!" The kid stood angrily from his stool and went to snatch back his tool but jerked back in surprise when McKay literally slapped his hands away.

"What I'm doing is a very simple, very obvious and very necessary algorithmic alteration. Can you see why I'm doing this, Evangelecci?" He snapped back, hands typing rapid instructions into the system as the guy glared at him. It needed work.

"It's Evangeslista," he corrected haughtily, "and you shouldn't be doing this at all! It's my project McKay, and the last time I checked you didn't have any authority over anyone's work!"

"I don't need authority to correct stupidity: it's my penance for being brilliant. And since you're apparently too dense to understand what you missed, let me help you figure it out." Rodney enlarged the tiny graph that he had spotted from across the room and pointed at the blue line. "What is this?" He demanded of the young man next to him, completely ignoring the look of derision that was turned upon him. He could feel the attention of the other two 'scientists' in the room, fully aware that none of these new people liked him and not caring in the least.

"It's you getting out of my way and letting me fix whatever it is you've screwed up now!" the kid declared, but he didn't risk taking back his computer again. Good, he was learning.

"God save me from incompetent adolescent scientists and give me somebody who has at least earned their passage through pre-school! Pay attention! Blue line equals pressure," he shifted his finger slightly on the screen. "Red line equals levels of durability. Are you following me?" He snapped, literally and verbally.

"I know what the diagram is telling me."

"Then why, pray tell, haven't you fixed it?" He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head to look at the man out of the corner of his eye.

"There's nothing to fix," he insisted immediately. "All readings state normal fluctuations."

"Do they?" The boy (well, he was practically a boy), Corey was his first name, didn't even glance at the screen as he glared at Rodney like he was the biggest idiot to ever walk in Atlantis.

"Yes, they do."

"Really?" Now Rodney turned his full glare on him, making sure he captured as much disdain and lack of faith that he could. It was his best 'I will swat you like a fly if you continue to believe that your incompetent mind has anything on my intellect' look, and he was relieved that it worked on this disrespectful, sniveling excuse for a scientist and the man looked back at the readings, suddenly uncertain. He looked at them hard, still not seeing it.

"Yes." He declared, but he didn't sound so certain now. At least he wasn't backing off completely. McKay didn't like him, but he'd like him even less if he changed his opinion without knowing why.

"What about that fluctuation?" he gestured at the screen.

"That's just an anomaly, an abnormal spike. It'll iron itself out."

"No!" He slapped his palm on the counter loudly, making the man jump. "The terms _anomaly_ and _spike_ exist for a reason, and their reasons are usually to inform us that an _anomaly_ or a _spike_ have occurred! You **do not** ignore what your data is telling you! Especially here in Atlantis! What school did you graduate from, the University of Half Completed Thoughts and Technical Idiocy!" Rodney quickly pulled up a new chart, stabbing at the sophisticated system in frustration. "Here!" he gestured wildly at the screen. "What does that tell you?" He didn't even give the poor man a chance to answer. "It tells you that the pressure in section D13 grid 22 was building. That unimportant _spike_ was to inform you that while most of the system is functioning just fine that one tiny, minuscule section is beginning to buckle under the strain. That in itself wouldn't be a problem normally, except that most of sector D is damaged due to a rather fantastic storm that hit us last year, which means that in approximately four days the pressure would have escalated to the point of buckling the piping system and possibly flooding the rest of that area. Do you honestly think we have the time to fix that kind of problem right now? Or ever? Do you understand how that kind of damage can spread to the rest of the city?" By now Evangelispi was staring at the grid and looking a bit green, finally seeing all the connections that Rodney had offhandedly noticed from across the room.

"That wouldn't have even been obvious for at least another day..."

"Yes well, prevention is the name of the game. The instructions I put in place have temporarily rerouted the matter in those pipes and alleviated the pressure. Within a day everything should be out of imminent danger, and you can request a team to go and manually remedy the situation. Would it be too much to ask that you actually try to attempt to do your job now? Idiocy I can't fix, but incompetence can be eradicated. You can thank me later." With that he stormed back to his own computer and flopped down on his stool. All three scientists were staring at him now as if he had grown a third head and he didn't even bother looking away from his own work as he simultaneously tapped into the audio feed for lab three to check on any possible problems there. "Why don't the three of you attempt some multitasking: you can exist _and_ do your jobs at the same time. It's a skill most people learn within their first year of life." He snapped, satisfied when they, albeit slowly, went back to work.

Maybe now he could finally work in here without them looking at him as though he was out to destroy Atlantis every few minutes. He had more important things to worry about at the moment.

ooOOooOOoo


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

ooOOooOOoo

"Ow."

"Quit yer complaining."

"Then stop hurting me!"

"I'm not hurting you Colonel, stop acting like a wee lass."

"You know, that's the second time in two days that you've compared me to a little girl," Sheppard responded, feeling indignant.

"This time you should take it as a compliment. Teyla didn't complain nearly as much as you are when she was here."

"Yeah, well Teyla didn't have to suffer under the tender care of your minions all night." And, wow, wasn't that a good Rodney impression. The thought upset Sheppard even more.

"Somebody's a wee bit grouchy this morning," Carson observed, raising an amused eyebrow at him. Sadist. John glared back.

"Somebody didn't get a solid nights rest because certain people think its fun to flash lights in my eyes every time I finally fall asleep."

"Uh huh," Carson didn't sound nearly sympathetic enough before quickly bringing his pen light up and examining John's pupils without warning. "No strenuous activity for a few days, and then its light duty for a few more," the Doctor said sternly, dropping the light.

"Sure thing, thanks," John was quick to agree, sliding slowly off his bed and Carson raised an eyebrow at the casual acceptance but didn't comment on it. John was halfway to the door before Carson called out to him.

"John? I heard that Rodney is currently investigating something or other in section H around grids 3 through 7." He said casually and John paused mid step, slowly pivoting around, his green eyes flashing.

"Really?" his interest was piqued.

"Aye, a little bird told me he should be there for another hour or so."

"Really..."

"Aye. That same little bird mentioned that he's been avoiding the mess hall a little too efficiently these last few days."

"Really..." John frowned at that.

"Aye. The mess hall is serving a rather tasty selection of sandwiches on fresh Athosian bread this hour."

"Hmmm, well, I'm feeling a little hungry, hospital food being what it is and all," Carson's eyes narrowed a bit at that, "but the mess hall sounds a little too hectic a place to eat for somebody in my delicate condition."

"Aye, I would suggest you enjoy yer meal in a location more suited to your recovery. Somewhere a little quieter perhaps." They paused and shared a look at that, because quiet and Rodney usually didn't go hand in hand. Carson shrugged, "or at least a location with a limited number of patrons for company."

"You know, I think I will. I have to follow my brilliant physician's orders and all that."

"Well, I'm glad you're listening to my recommendations for once."

"I always listen to you, Carson."

"Of course you do, now get out of here. I have important work to do." Sheppard smiled and left Beckett to do whatever it was he did when alone in his med bay. His head was pounding and he really wasn't hungry. The thought of food actually made him feel a bit nauseous, but he soldiered his way into the food line, smiling rather thinly at everyone who welcomed him back a little too enthusiastically, apparently forgetting that he'd just been released with a mild concussion.

Escaping the mess hall with a plate of sandwiches and a small carton of apple juice tucked safely in his front pocket, he set out to find Rodney. A quick stop at the jumper bay and he had a lifesign detector to lead him right to his wayward friend. When he found Rodney, the man was kneeling on the ground with his entire upper body immersed deeply inside a part of the wall. His earpiece was sitting in plain sight on the floor, a foot away from his right knee. John frowned at it disapprovingly.

"You know..." he paused a moment as a rather colourful string of swearing followed the sound of a head smacking against something solid. Rodney slowly extracted his upper body from the wall and twisted around on his knees, glaring at John as one hand went to rub the top of his head. John was unmoved, choosing to continue on as though he hadn't paused. "I spent an entire night in the infirmary waiting for someone to sneak me a decent meal and no one ever showed." Rodney glared at him, no doubt more concerned with whether he was going to have a bruise than what Sheppard had to say, but he responded as he was moving back into the wall.

"They serve the same food there that everyone else gets in the mess hall."

"Yeah, but when a nurse gives it to you instead of a friend it tastes worse."

"I've never had the chance to test that theory."

"That's good, I'd hate to think you spent too much time in the hospital."

"That's not the part of the theory I haven't tested." There was a momentary pause as the sound of something being soldered reached John's ears. "Is there something you wanted, Colonel? As you can see I'm a bit busy." The disinterested tone hurt, despite the fact that John knew Rodney was exactly the opposite of disinterested and was purposely trying to keep a distance. John liked to think that, despite their many differences and recent difficulties, he could still read Rodney's feelings through vocal inflection and body language fairly well. It wasn't a difficult skill to pick up; it's just that most people only ever saw the angry, annoyed, scared or excited emotions. John knew all the little nuances that came in between and around all the obvious and expected reactions, which basically forced him to recognize that Rodney was not nearly as casual, annoyed or busy as he was pretending to be at the moment. That in turn meant that he didn't want to see John in the first place, and John was feeling that that was pretty unfair, especially since he brought lunch.

"Actually McKay, I had a little time off before my afternoon nap and I thought I'd grab a bite to eat with some good company."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rodney snorted from inside the wall. "You never eat when you have a head injury, or even a bad headache for that matter."

"Aha!" John pointed his finger at Rodney's rear, the only real visible part of him at the moment. "You were checking up on me." He laced his voice with sly certainty.

"Of course I was," came the grunted response. "It's in my best interest to know what the head of the military is up to at all times."

"Forget it McKay, I see right through you're facade. You wanted to make sure I was okay."

"I fail to see the significance of this conversation or its eventual conclusion."

"It means you still like me."

"I like everybody, Colonel. It's a character flaw."

"You don't like everybody: you like me. Everybody else is just so much background noise."

"I think it's possible that your ego has outgrown my own," Rodney snapped. Oh ho! Now he was irritated, and despite the heat underlying Rodney's words Sheppard began to relax for the first time in almost a week. He needed this, his little 'arguing with McKay' fix, and if he was honest with himself, he had needed it for a good few weeks before everything went to hell in a hand basket.

"You know that may be true, but I doubt it'll last too long." There was silence then, and Rodney pulled himself out of the wall again, this time carrying his tools out with him. He stared at Sheppard and it was clear that he didn't know what to make of this entire conversation.

"Seriously Colonel, you were scheduled to leave Carson's chamber of torture over half an hour ago. You're recovering from a concussion and need to rest, just tell me what you want fixed and go to your room."

"You can't send me to my room." Was McKay serious? "Do I look ten years old to you?"

"You're acting like it," Rodney huffed and Sheppard sighed. His head was pounding to the drum of his heartbeat, which had sped up because of his anxiousness over speaking with Rodney. He should have left this conversation until he was feeling better, but he knew it had already been far too long in the making and putting it off any longer would only serve to drive his friendship with Rodney further apart. His thought process didn't get much further than that, however, because as he looked at Rodney's face he began feel overwhelmingly dizzy. He reached out with his empty hand to steady himself against the wall. For the record, those who said that McKay wasn't quick on his feet, that he wasn't athletic, obviously didn't know what they were talking about, because the genius was taking the plate from his hand and gripping his elbow in support faster than it would take most people to realize something was wrong. The man was muttering something about moronic hotshot pilots but John was feeling too dizzy to care at the moment. With a bit of maneuvering he found himself gently helped to the floor, where he leaned against the cool wall and willed the world to stay still. He reopened his eyes almost instantly, because closing them never helped him regain his equilibrium. It took a few minutes, but eventually he regained his dominance over gravity and could once again live without fear of falling off the edge of the city.

Rodney was sitting a few feet away, watching him with the same degree of attention that he devoted to star gazing when he thought no one was around. He averted his eyes as soon as John looked at him though, and took a second bite of the sandwich he'd selected from the plate. He looked a bit pale himself, maybe a tad sweaty around the hair line. Carson's little birdie must have been correct about him not eating enough lately; he'd have to find that bird later and have a chat with them about anything else they may have noticed.

John stared at Rodney, really looking at him for the first time in a month. He'd always had small bags under his eyes from too much stress and not enough rest, but now they were darker than usual. He'd lost a little bit of weight, and as far as John was concerned he didn't need to lose weight, especially when extra exercise wasn't the cause. His shoulders were slumped a little more than usual, kind of hugging in on himself like a small protective barrier, but Sheppard was certain that Rodney walked the city tall and proud to spite everyone who had turned their back on him. This hunched shoulder look was for John alone, which gave him the hope he needed to fix things between them.

A few minutes passed with neither of them saying anything and the atmosphere began to feel a little awkward, though Rodney seemed completely satisfied with eating his second sandwich and avoiding any eye contact as Sheppard stared relentlessly at him.

"So, how're things?" He finally asked and Rodney paused mid chew so that he could glare at him. The look was wrong somehow, it lacked its usual enthusiasm and warmth. "That good, huh? I was hit in the head with a rock yesterday."

"I see it didn't improve your disposition."

"They needed a bigger rock."

"They needed a mountain."

"You don't have to get mean about it." Sheppard huffed, trying to hide his amusement. Rodney didn't look impressed in the least by their exchange.

"Look, Colonel, as much as I appreciate the food, why are you here? Really? I don't have very much free time right now so if you could just tell me what you need and then leave me to it that would be great."

"What I need, Rodney, is you." At Rodney's rather startled look he thought over what he had just said. Huh, didn't that sound incriminating? "I need you back on my team. I need you back as the Chief Scientist, and I need you to talk to me again."

"Why Colonel, I didn't realize you felt that way about me."

"Damn it, Rodney, my name is John!"

"Just exactly how hard did you hit your head? I know your name."

"Then use it!"

"Why?"

"Because it's my name!" John spluttered, completely undignified and annoyed in a way that only Rodney had ever been able to make him. Rodney rolled his eyes.

"What do you want?" He asked again, sounding aggrieved.

"Can't a friend check up on another friend?" he asked. John saw a flash of pain in Rodney's eyes before it was quickly transformed into anger.

"No, in this case I really don't think you can. I don't think you've earned my friendship, John." And wasn't that just throwing his words back in his face. John grimaced at the sour taste of it.

"Rodney, I'm sorry, okay? I never meant it, any of it."

"You did mean it."

"Okay yeah, at the time maybe. But you can't really blame me for getting caught up in the moment."

"Actually, people have told me I'm really good at blaming others."

"I almost died, YOU almost died and we destroyed most of a solar system. I was upset."

"There was no 'we' in it! I destroyed it, I'm responsible for our man's death and I'm responsible for almost killing you!"

"You see, you don't blame other people for things, you just blame yourself."

"Look, it doesn't really matter anymore. Doranda is over and done with and it really was personally beneficial; I remembered why it is I don't make friends, ever."

"Oh please, quit pretending to be the injured party here. I screwed up because I wasn't 'there' for you. I get it, and I just apologized for that, in case you didn't understand the whole 'I'm sorry' statement from a moment ago. This whole friendship thing, it's relatively new for me as well, okay? You might be socially...recalcitrant, but I don't exactly have a lot of opportunities to make friends either. I'm a bit difficult at times, in case you haven't noticed, and it's been a while since I've relied on anyone being there for me. I forgot that, despite you're charming personality and obvious dependence on social acceptance, you might need support sometimes as well. I never claimed to be a _good_ friend," he finished his long winded speech and rubbed at his forehead. This was possibly the longest emotional conversation of his life. In fact he'd had girlfriends who would have probably fainted from the mere notion that he could talk that long about his feelings. He was feeling out of his league and his pain meds were beginning to make it a little difficult to think straight.

"Actually, you never claimed to be a friend at all."

"Oh my god! I'm trying here, okay!" He tried to put some force behind his words, but he was really starting to sound as tired as he was feeling. There was a moment of heavy silence where he didn't look at Rodney at all, feeling foolish for putting so much on the line when Rodney was apparently willing to just put everything they'd worked up to behind him. It was like a bad dream, he was only just realizing how much he stood to lose by shutting Rodney out and now the man was doing the same thing to him. Why did things always have to be so difficult and end so badly? He was no good at this.

"Come on," Rodney said suddenly and was moving again, closing the wall panel and picking up the few tools he'd brought. He put his radio back in his ear and dumped the empty plate in his small tool bag. Then he was leaning down and grasping Sheppard's arm in a strong grip, and if his hand was shaking where it rested on John's arm neither man said anything. That didn't stop John from looking to where they connected in surprise, and then his gaze narrowed at the very faint bruising surrounding the knuckles. He managed to restrain from comment though and found himself being led along the empty corridor towards the nearest lift. For a moment, despite the pounding in his head and how everything was far from okay, he felt better. Rodney wasn't letting him back in, not right away, but he was subtly letting John know that there was a chance things could still be okay again.

It was only when they had reached his door and Rodney released his firm grip on his arm, that John felt it was safe to talk again.

"You know, this Greenmall guy, he's good." It was hard to miss as Rodney's entire stance stiffened like a board and he felt the sudden flow of negative energy, but he ignored it, needing to say this. "He's smart, he's quick and he's actually a very nice person."

"This is not something I need to hear right now. Talk about rubbing acid onto an organic surface."

"Shut up Rodney, and let me finish," he ordered, looking into Rodney's blue eyes, trying to force him into focus with little success. "Having come to that conclusion, something isn't right here." That caused the shifty blue gaze to still and stare back at him, but for once John couldn't read him, he couldn't tell what Rodney was thinking, and that was not good.

"Of course something isn't right. Hello? I'm no longer the chief scientist!"

"He doesn't feel right."

"You're feeling him up now?" The way Rodney was reacting to his line of questioning, how he was trying to change the topic, began to set alarm bells off in his mind.

"You know I'm speaking figuratively McKay, why are you trying to change the subject?"

"I'm not," he responded, a little too quickly.

"Do you know something about his being here that I don't, Rodney?"

"I know that his being here makes me the most disliked man in Atlantis."

"His being here has nothing to do with that."

"Thank you for the moral support."

"What aren't you telling me, Rodney?" Sheppard stepped away from the wall and closer to Rodney, looking at him like he had all the answers. Which in turn had the scientist smirking in a way that clearly said he was hiding something, and not at all comfortable with the direction of this conversation. Also, he was beginning to blur a bit around the edges.

"Look Colonel, to be frank I don't like the man. He has moved in, taken my job, my office, and my staff. They are laughing at me, and loving him. Any opinion I might have about him is obviously prejudicial. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to get back to work," he retreated around the nearest corner so quickly that he obviously didn't think about the direction he was going. Sheppard stood outside his room and smiled politely at Rodney as he came back around a moment later, and headed in the opposite direction to the nearest lift, scowling darkly the entire way.

When Rodney was truly gone John went inside and lay down on his bed, not bothering to take off any of his clothes. He spent an inordinate amount of time pulling the now warm juice box from his pocket, and he gently hugged his nice soft pillow to his head. His spider sense was tingling, and Rodney's reaction to his questions, generally his avoidance of answering them, was telling him that something was wrong. In the morning he was going to start a little investigation of his own, and maybe Zelenka wouldn't mind giving him a hand.

ooOOooOOoo


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

ooOOooOOoo

Rodney was falling. He had stepped off the edge of the world and all around him he could see the tiny pinpricks of the universe, each star so wondrous and beautiful and far. His stomach carried the tingling sensation of floating, like he was no longer held back by gravity but on par with it. He wasn't afraid. He'd done this many, many times and he knew that when he reached the bottom of this journey he would find nothing but safety. So he kept falling in stillness until slowly he began to float. His body fell back under his own control bit by bit until at last he could reach out, his hands grasping for the material below him and he dragged himself the rest of the way to the ground. The heaviness of gravity took over then, real weight coming back to his limbs and he snuggled into the soft, pliant, comfortable blanket that was always there to catch him. He smiled with lazy contentment and pulled his eyes from the stars, rolling over with little effort to become more comfortable.

That was when he saw that he hadn't fallen alone. Brendan was lying beside him, Brendan Gaul, with eyes wide open and staring. One of them drowned in the blood that was still leaking from his forehead, dripping down onto the pillow, turning the black satin red. Rodney jerked up, moving too slowly and no longer having complete control of his body. He had to get away from this horror, this terrible, terrible image of a man he had once known. It was then, as he struggled to sit up, that he saw an arm wrapped around Brendan's waist, clutching at him possessively. It belonged to Grodin. Grodin…Rodney stared. Behind him was Dumais, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, perfect trails of crimson trickling from her nose and ears and eyes. Clutching her was another and another and another and they kept going and going into the distance and becoming one giant horizontal conga line of the dead, their eyes open and closed, staring and hiding and he flailed to get away but his legs were caught in the juicy thick red blankets and he couldn't find his feet.

He kicked out, hard. He had to get away! He had to, and it was an impossible struggle as Brendan and Peter just stared at him, their dead lips curved in amusement, until Rodney finally fell sharply from the blanketed perch. Onto a cold cement slab. He looked down and no wonder he couldn't move properly! His arms and legs had been cuffed together. He pulled at the metal binding them and it bit painfully into his wrists, instantly drawing blood. He looked away, naseauted by the red. A small, dirty table stood in the centre of the room. Rodney's chair had been knocked over and he was on the ground, one metal leg digging into his back. On the other side of the room he saw Archie, standing with his arms free and still by his side, his pale face matching the pale walls. He wore no pain, no cuffs, no bruises, no blood. Archie had been his friend once, very long ago. A lifetime ago. The pale face looked down at him then, stared with his pale green eyes, but there was no fear in them, just the glitter of an idea. He whispered over to Rodney, cupping a hand beside his mouth to better direct his words to reach Rodney's ears. His voice was so loud Rodney cringed.

"They _know_ you're a genius, Rodney. They know, and you're finally getting the attention you deserve." Then Archie left him, he left him there bleeding on the floor and a hand threaded through his hair, scratching at his scalp, and then it was pulling him up, up to his knees. The chair kicked aside roughly, and Rodney gasped and then he bolted straight up in his bed, rapidly leaving those people in that room of long ago. The lights in his room were as bright as they could be as he fully woke up; Atlantis had sensed his need to see where he was and had risen to the occasion.

Rodney rapidly blinked around the room, letting out a ragged breath as he looked around frantically, recognizing where he was. Several pairs of his pants draped over the back of his couch in his halfhearted attempt at keeping them unwrinkled without actually having to hang them up. The sight comforted him and he stared at the dark material until his breathing grew less forced and his limbs stopped shaking enough that he could untangle himself from his bed. He moved immediately for the shower. Scalding water didn't sooth his nerves, but it chased away the slight chill that had settled into his bones and he sighed in relief, bowing his neck into the spray.

Nightmares he was accustomed to. Waking up in a panic from them he was accustomed to. But actually waking up loudly and with movement was something he hadn't done in a long, very long time. He had worked hard to control his physical reactions to this nighttime torment that occasionally plagued him. When he woke up he liked to be in instant control and aware of his surroundings. This time though, this time he had dreamed about _that_ place, and he hadn't done that for a few years. He had hoped, after a week of being around Greenwall with no reaction, that the nightmares would stay away. Damn-it! He slapped the wall of his shower, careful not to re-bruise his recently healed hand, and the water sputtered in indignation.

"Why don't you just stay in that nice indestructible box I locked you in years ago!" He hissed into the spray and then groaned. "Oh my god, he's driven me to speaking to my own brain out loud in only a week. This couldn't possible get any worse," he complained and then realized that he had just unintentionally jinxed himself. Great.

It was an effort to crawl out from under the warm spray, the cooler air of his room sprouted goosebumps on his skin. He shuddered and dressed quickly, not caring that he had thrown on his off world cargo pants instead of his usual attire. It wasn't like he needed them to be clean and spiffy for missions anytime soon. With that cheerful thought to keep him company he headed off to his 'new' lab, which wasn't really his 'new' lab at all. After the Sheppard thing that involved the giant hickie-bug acquiring some personal necking time, and the whole being stuck in a puddle jumper that was stuck in a stargate day, Rodney had realized that he needed somewhere he could retreat to where nobody else would bother him. He hadn't even told Zelenka about this place, though he was fairly positive his second in command had at least zeroed in on the general location by now. It had quickly become his retreat, a place to go when he couldn't sleep because his brain was being it's usual overactive self, or when he was fed up with scientists that felt they needed constant supervision and wouldn't leave him alone. How was he ever expected to get work done with them constantly crying for his attention? Honestly, if he wasn't the type of guy that only needed four hours of sleep a night and one or two quick power naps throughout the day then he would never get his own projects done.

Now he grumbled to himself as he strolled down the semi-darkened halls of Atlantis, nodding distractedly to the patrols he passed. If they said anything to him he didn't pay enough attention to let it register. It was a relief when he finally slid through the narrow door and into his haven. He was angry with Greenwall for taking over his main lab, but he would have been beyond furious and quite possibly homicidal if the man had known about this place. There was no doubt in Rodney's mind that he would have liberated it from him as well; he had always wanted everything that Rodney had earned, and Rodney knew for a fact that he would do anything to get the better of him.

Stupid man.

"Hello beauties," he announced as he stepped through the door. "I apologize for keeping you waiting, but I've been a bit busy this week." And if he spoke to his technology, so what? Many scientists crooned at any given time to their projects, forming connections with their work as though it were alive. In many cases (especially in Atlantis) their machines and tools and programs sometimes felt alive, and Rodney personally believed that sometimes things responded better if you treated them with the respect they deserved, instead of as a means to an end. Besides, at least he didn't name any of them, unlike like some of the military contingent of Atlantis and their weapons of choice.

He scoffed at the thought.

Aside from sounding crazy he felt the tension ease slightly from his body as he pulled up a stool and looked at the wrench shaped object he had last been studying and picked it up. An hour later he huffed in annoyance and put the item back on the table to stare at some more. He had completed numerous scans and tried activating it several times with no effect. He didn't want to crack it open and start pulling apart its' internal systems just yet, but it looked as though he just might have to, seeing as he wasn't getting anywhere this way.

Needing something to do with his hands he picked up another item, one that had been puzzling him for months now, and started flipping it around absently with his thumb, middle and fore fingers, staring hard at the wrench. Maybe it was actually just a wrench. The Ancients must have had a need for some basic tools right? Or maybe it was an archaic museum piece from before they became so advanced. Or it could have been...

"You are not Hallien," a puzzled voice boomed over his shoulder and Rodney reared back, screaming. He promptly smashed his knee into the underside of the table and knocked his stool over dramatically as he leaped to his feet.

"What?!" He whirled around to stare at the man who stood close by, watching him, and then Rodney bent over and rubbed at his painfully throbbing knee. "Ow!" he declared, glaring disdainfully at the intruder before straightening up to his full height. "Who're you?" he demanded, staring in surprised suspicion at the man standing across from him. The man who had watched the entire spectacle calmly.

"I am Cadross." He introduced himself, his voice a pleasant, rich timbre and Rodney stared at him. He was dressed in a gold and cream coloured tunic that crossed and buttoned over his chest in an elaborate pattern Rodney had never quite seen before. He stared at him a long moment, waiting for more information but when it seemed that nothing else was forthcoming he decided to help the conversation along. He narrowed his eyes at the stranger.

"Oh, that's very helpful: I now know your name, good for me. How about you tell me how you got in here, where you're from, why we didn't detect you on our city sensors and what you want," he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "And if you're planning on hurting or kidnapping me I should warn you I am highly trained in hand to hand combat and have an entire base of lethal soldiers standing just outside that door to protect me." He added, just in case. The man blinked at him a moment, thinking about what he said, and then nodded his head at him. Rodney didn't think potential killer/kidnappers were this polite, but it never hurt to be cautious.

"You activated me," Cadross announced. "I assume I do not appear on sensors because I am not a corporeal being. I was to deliver a message to Hallien, but it would appear she is no longer in the city or I would have spoken to her by now." Rodney stared at him suspiciously, his glare morphing into a frown.

"Hallien? Who's that? Was she an Atlantian?"

"She lived in the city of Atlantis, yes. I do not know much about her, only that I was to deliver her a message."

"And I activated you? Just now?"

"Yes." There was a slight twinge of annoyance in the man's voice that time, as if he was irritated that Rodney apparently hadn't understood that the first time he stated it. Rodney didn't care for the attitude and increased the wattage of his glare.

"How?" He demanded.

"How is it that you do not know?" Cadross looked slightly puzzled. "I am very basic technology, outdated in fact. Every child understands how to operate my functions."

"The Atlantians abandoned this city 10,000 years ago. My people have come back to help restore it. Now, answer my question," he snapped, and was fascinated when the man actually flickered, his entire body blinking out for a moment so fast that Rodney almost didn't see it, even though he was staring right at him. It was a good thing he was so observant. It seemed that he was conversing with a hologram of some sort, and he felt a surge of excitement as he looked upon the image with new interest, no longer afraid.

"The device you hold in you hand," Cadross replied, an arm waving elegantly in his direction and Rodney looked down at the small metallic disk he had been fidgeting with. "That is my unit. I am a model Esqar 12 communicator and I belonged to Koranee. He is no longer around to claim me. Am I to understand that you are therefore my new holder?"

"Yes," Rodney squared his shoulders self importantly. "Yes I am."

"Then may I please have your name?"

"Rodney...Dr. Rodney McKay, astrophysicist and head scientist of this expedition." The image nodded his head and Rodney looked back at the object in his hand. "You're telling me that the Atlantian's managed to compact an entire holographic mainframe and projector suite into a unit the size of a looney?" He spoke his thoughts out loud.

"What is a looney?"

"I wasn't talking to you," Rodney muttered, bringing the disk just far enough from his face so he wouldn't go cross-eyed while examining it. "How exactly did I activate you?" He was met with silence and he looked over at the being, who was staring back with a rather irritated look on his face. He blinked at Rodney's look.

"Oh, I apologize, were you speaking to me that time?" Okay, so apparently he wasn't just a hologram, he had basic emotional subroutines programmed into him. This was so...cool!

"Sorry," Rodney apologized instantly. "I was a bit rude there. I treat everyone that way, don't take it personally."

"Apology accepted. You activated my program by rubbing your thumb across my unit's face in a relatively circular motion from left to right."

"If I did that again would I shut you off?"

"Yes."

"And I can activate you whenever I want?"

"Yes." Rodney experimentally rubbed his thumb across the surface and the holographic image disappeared. He rubbed it again and he was back. He did this a few more times in utter fascination, completely overjoyed until the man/image held up a hand to stop him from deactivating him again.

"Please, turn me on or off, but make up your mind. It is very...unsettling to blink in and out of existence so quickly and repetitively." Rodney stopped and supposed it would be a bit of a strobe light effect for the thing.

"Right, sorry. So you deliver messages? You're like a recording device?"

"Yes."

"Does your image always activate when someone is recording?"

"My image activates to deliver the message or when the activator wishes. You may deliberately access the recording device without activating myself by rubbing your thumb in a circular motion from right to left." Rodney was about to do so when he thought he should be polite. He had always made it a point to respect his technology, and this one at least displayed feelings. And it talked back. Could it be an AI or was it simply meant to represent emotion for the sake of passing on accurate messages? Either way:

"Do you mind if I..." he held the unit up.

"You may." He shut the hologram down (Cadross was his name?) and then rubbed his thumb counter clockwise on the smooth surface.

"This message is to the President...you're an idiot. I don't care what dirt Greenwall has on you, arrest him or something, anything instead of just bending to his will like every other evolutionary defunct moron he's threatened in the past." Then, he rubbed his thumb counter clockwise again, wondering if that's how he stopped recording and he activated Cadross again. The guy looked amused.

"You seem to have a few issues to deal with."

"What gave you that idea? Now, if I actually wanted to send that message, how would I?"

"There are thousands of access ports throughout the city that I could connect with to relay the message across our systems to a direct screen. Or I could locate the intended target myself and deliver the message as a hologram."

"How would you get to either of these things?" The disk, now held rather carefully between his fingers, suddenly sprung four very tiny, very spindly like legs that wrapped around to grip his index finger in a disturbing way. "Oh, you turn into a metallic spider. Huh." He brought the device closer to his face to see how the legs bent.

"What is a spider?"

"It's an Earth insect. So you're programmed to find anyone I instruct you to, and you just scuttle to your destination? That doesn't take a while?"

"I'm very fast, that is why they kept my model around for so long despite my limited functions." Limited functions? If this was limited then Rodney couldn't wait to find an advanced one! The legs unwrapped themselves, folding back in seamlessly and the disk lay in the palm of his hand once more, so innocuous and unassuming.

"Limited functions we'll deal with later," he announced. "Tell me, do you know anything about any other technology in this room? This item here for instance?" Rodney pointed at the wrench hopefully, but he sensed he would be disappointed by the response as the hologram stared blankly at it.

"No, I am a communicator only. I was not programmed with any information other than my basic functions. I was upgraded to having emotions however, so that my previous owner would have someone to speak with when he felt alone." Ah, so he was like a holographic bartender...or shrink. Well, Rodney could always use a sounding board.

"So tell me Cadross, what kind of information would you need to become functional with an entirely new population and how do you upgrade?" It was difficult to shut his new find down when it came time to go on shift, but he pocketed the tiny disk lovingly and headed out to start the day. His good mood lasted until he entered his newly assigned lab to find Greenwall sitting at his bench, going through his computer as if he had every right to examine Rodney's work. Rodney seethed, but when Greenwall noticed him he pulled his lips into a thin smile, and if it came across as more malicious than friendly it was completely done on purpose.

"Ah, Rodney. We need to have a little discussion." Greenwall declared, and had a look in his eyes that said Rodney's days were about to get busier. Life really, really sucked sometimes.

ooOOooOOoo

"So basically they told you to suck it up," Sheppard surmised, and he was darkly amused by the anger simmering under her carefully neutral façade. It seemed everyone was mastering the look of neutral indifference these days, most importantly a scientist that still managed to escape his radar most of the time despite his earlier attempts to fix things between them. Elizabeth's neutral expression disappeared as soon as the windows to her office closed and they were alone.

"In much larger and more misleading words, yes." Oh yeah, she was angry. "Coming out here alone placed me in sole command of this operation and now that we have reestablished regular communications they are trying to uproot my authority."

"So stick it to them. Reinstate Rodney as the chief of science and send them a polite memo," he offered. She pursed her lips and for a moment he thought she might actually agree to his suggestion, before logic won out.

"As much as I would like to, I can't. As head of this city I should have the final say over the status of my personnel and command staff. I've had numerous apologies from several key people stating that it won't happen again, but at the moment the order still stands." She leaned back in her chair and looked directly at him with that focused no nonsense gaze that meant business. "I want to know what the hell is going on. All of my questions as to why this is happening are being skillfully avoided. They're running me in circles and I'm getting the impression that they don't even understand why the President issued this order."

"What _I_ want to know," John leaned forward, "is whether Greenfall is directly involved in this decision process or if he's just the guy who was next in line for Rodney's job."

"That's another thing that's been bothering me. I'd heard of Greenwall before he joined us, but I don't recall anything spectacular that made him stand out besides a few papers. His credentials are outstanding, but-"

"But you think you would have heard something more about someone smart enough to be in charge of an entire science team dealing with completely foreign technology in another galaxy?" He supplied, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, that's exactly it." She instantly agreed.

"And he's too nice." He added.

"Now you're just searching for excuses."

"Nobody's that nice." He insisted.

"Carson is." Elizabeth rebutted.

"You obviously haven't been under his care enough, not that that's a bad thing," he hastily added, not wanting to imply that she should be injured or sick more often. His team alone was enough to keep Beckett busy thank you. She leaned forward again, and the light of the computer screen illuminated each of her tiny freckles.

"What's the word from the science staff? How're they dealing with this switch?"

"Well, it's been two weeks..." He trailed off as he slumped into a chair of his own, shifting slightly to make his side holster more comfortable. "And for the most part they seem okay with the situation. Some of the older crew are still looking twitchy, I think they're suffering from McKay withdrawal, but for the most part there's only been the typical complaints as far as I know, and Radek's been dealing with those."

"And Radek?"

"He's been remarkably tight lipped about the entire situation, except when he's speaking in Czech. I can now tell people they're stupider than a flying fish in a different language," she frowned at him. "Apparently they dry dock themselves and suffocate a lot..." he explained and then shrugged. "I thought it was funny."

"So in other words, he doesn't like Greenwall."

"That's the impression I'm getting, but he hasn't officially complained yet."

"Kavanagh has."

"It took him this long to find something wrong with the man?"

"He issued a report this morning outlining several reasons why Dr. Greenwall shouldn't be at his post, but the gist of it was that he didn't think him capable of handling the leadership necessities by way of intelligence and on the bureaucratic and interpersonal level."

"But it's just Kavanagh complaining?"

"At the moment, it's just Kavanagh, and that's not enough." John understood that. With contact being re-established with Earth it was possible, though it would take something rather severe, for them to be replaced. Elizabeth lived with that fear as much as he did, and this whole thing with Rodney proved it despite the many reassurances from the top dogs that nothing like this would happen again. The damage had already been done.

"How's Rodney doing?" She asked, her eyes taking on that sincere and guilty expression at the same time.

"He's been avoiding me. The only reason he spent any time with me this week is because I visited him with a concussion and he had to help me back to my quarters," he admitted, hoping he didn't look too sheepish as he said this.

"He's shut us out."

"No more then we did to him after Doranda," he defended without thought, even though it was a slap to both of them. Elizabeth's eyes flashed with that guilty look again but she didn't seem satisfied.

"It's not just us though. Carson mentioned that he literally hasn't seen him in two weeks, and they were getting along just fine before this happened. There have actually been several unofficial complaints that he hasn't been around to consult with." And that revelation, though it was slight, felt like a triumph to John. Good, they'd better miss him, because that was the first step in remembering exactly how much Rodney did for them. Personally Sheppard was missing him something fierce, and it was quite depressing to realize how much he had come to depend on the man as both friend and team mate. Rodney never tried to dumb things down to him until Sheppard asked; Greenwall was stuck in a permanent 'I will explain as though you are a child' mode. He missed getting lost in the complex scientific explanations that stunned the science staff and completely boggled John's own people. Rodney kept everyone on his or her toes, that was certain.

"Do you think there's an ulterior motive for him becoming so recluse all of a sudden?" She asked, concern lacing her words.

"After the way we treated him for a while there, I wouldn't blame him," they both averted their eyes. "But for him to bow out so easily, without a hint at a fight...I don't think it matters how emotionally affected by this he is, I don't see him giving up his place so easily. In fact, I was expecting something more on the level of an atomic explosion."

"You think there may be some external factors influencing his silence?" And this was suddenly becoming a very serious discussion as he began to think about the security implications and the threat to his city and people. Within the space of a few uttered words his mind was spinning off scenario after scenario of how something he didn't even know about yet could threaten his friend and his city.

"I honestly couldn't say, but with the run around from the President and Stargate Command and with Rodney," the most vocal and bull headed man in Atlantis "completely withdrawing I think there is reasonable room for concern," Elizabeth carefully spoke, and that was all the permission he needed to start a more thorough investigation.

He didn't know quite what he was looking for, but he had a gut feeling that there was more to McKay and Greenwall than he knew about, and those suspicions stemmed from his conversation with Rodney almost a week ago, outside his quarters.

"Right, well, I know Teyla and Ronon are looking for something to do, and Radek, while being tight lipped about Greenhall, has been rather vocal in defending Rodney. Carson isn't too happy with being shut out either. I think it's time we got together for a little poker night and some good old fashioned gossip."

"Just make sure there are no actual wagers and I'll wholeheartedly agree. The last thing I need is for you to have to bring yourself up on gambling charges." He nodded in agreement and left her office, heading straight to Atlantis's medical facility. He had arrangements to make.

ooOOooOOoo


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

ooOOooOOoo

"When he is head of science again, I am going to throw him off tallest pier!" The angry little man announced as he pushed his glasses further up his nose. Ronon looked at him impassively. He hadn't had much contact with the scientists of this city yet, not beyond McKay, but it was generally good practice to assess your opponents before coming to any conclusions about them. Beside the little man Sheppard raised his eyebrows, looking more amused than concerned by the outburst. Ronon took that as a good sign.

"That's a bit harsh." Sheppard drawled. "It's not like you lost your job," he pointed out as he dealt two cards to each player gathered around the table. Ronon reached forward and picked up the flimsy squares with care, holding them deftly.

"No, I got _his_ job! Every time I sit down to do my work it is 'Radek, the energy couplings in phase buffer of transport is not responding correct!' Or 'Dr. Zelenka, the lift ratio compared to compromised speed gain of puddle jumper 8 is going to cause ship to crash and burn next time we use it, what should I do?' Or even-" he slapped his cards back on the table without even looking at them, "-the _spore samples_ from swamp world are growing out of control and finding way to escape containment, how do I deal with this?' Do I look like botanist? Truly?!" Ronon wasn't sure what a botanist was, though Zelenka looked like a man who would probably know something about almost everything. Despite that, the little man spit the title out with a level of disgust that warned people to steer clear of ever comparing him to a botanist. Sheppard cocked his head and looked carefully at the man for a brief moment, pursing his lips.

"When you're in the correct lighting you might look like one, but for the most part you're not pretty enough."

"Thank you!" Zelenka seemed pleased with that answer, but there was no reasonable reason as to why. Was he not just insulted? "These people who ask these questions, they need constant supervision. Very smart people, they just like to be told what to do instead of be responsible for outcome. No wonder Rodney never let's them do anything without permission, and now Greenwall sends all questions to me! I have no time for this hand holding, I have important tests to get done." He huffed, looking even more despondent than when he had first sat down to join them.

"And where is Rodney during all of this?" Teyla asked from beside Ronon as Sheppard randomly dealt more cards to each of them. Were they not supposed to examine the cards laid out on the table and determine whether or not they needed more? Ronon frowned.

"Where is he, indeed! He is rarely in labs anymore, always off working some project or another, and not many dare to call him for aid because they fear Greenwall's reaction. Is obvious history is bad between them." Zelenka grumbled.

"Really? I don't know Greenwall outside of his two check-ups, but he didn't seem all that bad," Carson said and made to protest when Radek plucked the cards out of his hand and added them to his growing pile. Ronon simply handed his over to the little man, not understanding this game at all, and watched as his anger was transferred to mixing the deck.

"No, he does not appear to be bad person." Radek admitted.

"And that's the problem, isn't it," Sheppard sighed.

"Are you so determined to dismiss our newest team member without giving him a chance?" Teyla asked as she looked around the table.

"Yes." Ronon heard the three men answer without a moment's hesitation. Even Carson, who claimed to have no issue with their newest teammate, was adamant of the fact. Sheppard leaned forward in his seat towards Teyla.

"You don't notice the difference with him no longer in charge? You don't want him back?" He watched her enquiringly and she raised her eyebrows as though insulted by the question.

"Of course I do, I would entrust my life and the lives of my people to Rodney as I have done on many occasions. I do not know Greenwall well enough to have the same confidence."

"There's a shift in the city." Ronon announced, speaking for the first time since this 'meeting' had begun. He held the same two cards that he had just handed back to Zelenka, and he felt their gazes fall on him, waiting for further explanation. He gave it. "The energy, the atmosphere, it's not as cohesive as it was a week ago." Zelenka instantly nodded in agreement.

"He is right. Many of the scientists are still convincing themselves that Dr. Greenwall is best thing to happen to them, but others are not so sure anymore."

"Why? Is he not doing his job?" Carson asked and Ronon took his turn at gathering the cards from everyone and handing them out again. He didn't bother wasting his time mixing the deck.

"He is not doing it same way that we are all used to. Rodney is loud, abrasive and insulting, but even when he yelled it was reassuring. We did not enjoy his wrath, but we knew he would catch our mistakes. The silence and encouraging words are beginning to become problem. Greenwall is very smart man, but I am not sure he is smart enough."

"You're not the only one who's thinking along those lines," Sheppard agreed, his sharp gaze settling on the scientist once again. "What do you know about his history with Rodney?" It was interesting the way that the scientist suddenly focused so completely on his cards when John asked that question.

The man pushed his glasses up his nose and then brushed a hand through his flopping hair.

"Come on, Radek," Sheppard needled. "I could hack into the locked files myself but it would take too long, and I know Carson won't use his status to get at them: it goes against his doctor patient confidentiality." Radek remained silent and Ronon frowned, wondering if he should force the guy to talk, because it was obvious he knew something. He looked to Sheppard for the order, but he doubted he would get it.

"We are all friends here, and we will not discuss anything of importance or secrecy beyond this room," Teyla assured him, while the others nodded in agreement. Ronon just crossed his arms, not caring for the politics of the situation. But apparently that was all the reassurance Zelenka had been looking for, and he leaned forward slightly in his chair and dropped his voice.

"I only know what is in official documents. I was looking through personnel histories when I accidentally came across file that says they were in same graduating class." Carson snorted at the term "accidentally", and Zelenka responded with a sheepish shrug.

"Isn't Dr. Greenwall quite a few years older than Dr. McKay? Would they not have been in different years?" Teyla asked.

"There are many circumstances that lead to people of all ages going into a higher level of education, though you'll find very few people in Atlantis that did not excel at everything they did. Rodney, as he has been known to point out, is very intelligent. Chances are he was in the same year as Dr. Greenwall because he fast tracked his education, which means that he was ridiculously young when he was in school, despite the advanced courses he began in. Even so, class rosters are public knowledge," Carson supplied.

"So what else did you find, Radek?" John pushed with a tight smile.

"There was controversy over...borrowed ideas," Zelenka announced gravely. "Where Rodney was the accuser and Greenwall the accused."

"Accusations like that could ruin a person's career," Carson supplied for both Teyla and Ronon's benefit.

"It could have, but in the end there was no evidence to prove Rodney's claim and no penalties on either side were awarded." The scientist finished explaining.

"That kind of accusation could lead to some personal grudges..." Sheppard mused "Something that, given the individual, could fester and become a nasty little academic war."

"Academia has always been too competitive." Zelenka sighed in disgust.

"Don't tell me you never wanted Rodney's job," Sheppard joked.

"Oh I did, I was furious when he received position over me back on Earth. Then I come here and see everything he has to do and I am happy to be second in command only. I know I sleep easier at night."

"What else is there?" Sheppard drew the conversation back to the point.

"Six years ago they worked together again at Area 51. They were sent to China for special conference, one that I attended actually. This is where I don't know what happens. It feels like there is big gap of information; there are several days where Rodney is listed as 'sick' and then conference is over and everyone goes home. He did not even present."

"What's wrong with that?" Ronon wanted to know.

"Conferences that involve people as highly respected as these two are usually documented in great detail. If it says Rodney was sick, it would probably declare why or what caused his illness and absence. There's nothing in his medical records that indicate any kind of sickness severe enough to incapacitate him around that time," Carson frowned to himself, looking like he was trying to remember.

"Your records go back that far?"

"Colonel, I have the results of your first urine sample," the Doctor scoffed.

"Okay, that, I did not need to know. This sounds like it could be an information blanket." Sheppard's bow furrowed at the thought.

"I have found absolutely nothing to indicate that anything went wrong at that conference, other than Rodney's absence in presenting. Though it is possible that I am incorrect." Zelenka frowned.

"Does your gut tell you you're wrong?" Sheppard wanted to know.

"No," Zelenka sighed, looking very tired to Ronon.

"Then chances are it's a blanket, so we're not going to find anything there." Sheppard determined. "Greenwall was listed as present the entire time?"

"Yes, he even had some very integral scientific statements that week that were documented in great detail. He made good name for himself at that conference."

"Okay, so, who else thinks something very wrong is going on here?" Every head was nodding around the table and Ronon figured they took his silence as agreement. Sheppard was suddenly more relaxed, which meant that he was happy with their response. When his team leader was happy it usually led to action and trouble, which had Ronon feeling better immediately. He was beginning to get very bored sitting around waiting for a mission, and boredom was a dangerous thing. "So," Sheppard looked around, "who wants to play Go Fish?"

Ronon frowned. "Where would we get the fish?"

ooOOooOOoo

"Please allow me a moment to fully understand the situation," Cadross requested and Rodney shrugged.

"Take all the time you need, I'm not going anywhere." Which was true, seeing as he was currently stuck in a saltwater intake tank for the water desalinization and purification station located at the southeast pier. The water was only up to his waist and it wasn't scheduled to fill for another five and a half hours; he still had plenty of time to figure a way out of it. He looked up at the top of the tank while Cadross 'contemplated' what Rodney had told him. The opening he had fallen through (though he had no idea how he'd actually managed to stumble down the gapingly obvious hole) was fifteen feet above him. There was nothing to use to climb out, there weren't even seams in the cylindrical wall to indicate where the tank had been put together. He was completely trapped.

"You blew up a solar system." Cadross stated.

"Five sixths of a solar system," he corrected absently, staring longingly at the top of his prison.

"And you were rude to everyone about it."

"Well, I'd say I was a bit overbearing, but rude? Okay, yes, fine. I was rude, especially to Zelenka, but I apologized for that."

"Why?"

"Well, on Earth it's a social custom to apologize when you've wronged someone. I'm not that affluent in the practice myself, I generally don't care if I've upset someone, but I actually like Zelenka; and he deserved it."

"I was actually questioning your reason for being so forceful in your completion of the project despite the protests against it."

"Isn't it obvious?" Rodney looked at Cadross as if he was the biggest photonic moron to ever exist. "If it worked it would have solved all of our problems! Everyone would have been safe, and by everyone I mean _everyone_!"

"And they ostracized you for your actions."

"Well, yes. I expected it at first, but for weeks? That's a little ridiculous by even my standards."

"And this hurt your feelings."

"They were supposed to be my friends, I don't have a lot of good experience there, but I had thought that it was real this time," he huffed and looked about the crystal clear saltwater. It was cold and while being cold never really bothered him, this had started to become a bit of a problem a while ago.

"And you needed them then?" And now, Rodney thought pathetically. He managed to avoid answering Cadross though, with a skillfully forwarded question of his own.

"You can't turn solid, can you?" He looked hopefully at his companion. Cadross actually rolled his holographic eyes at him.

"You already asked me this, and you knew the answer before you asked that time as well."

"Yeah? Well excuse me," Rodney huffed back. "I get a little anxious when my life is in danger of being brutally snuffed!"

"Your life is not in danger yet, and you can obtain aid any time you choose." Well yes, there was that, but Rodney preferred finding his own way out.

"I don't understand how I ended up down here," he whined, glaring up at the tank's edge again. "I might not be the most physically adept individual in this city, but I'm not as unfit or unbalanced as everyone appears to believe." There was a long moment of silence where neither said anything and Rodney tenderly rubbed his arm, poking it to see if it sill hurt, which of course it did: it wasn't about to magically heal itself.

"And now your position as the head of Atlantis's Science Department has been taken from you by your most bitter rival."

"Enemy, he is definitely an enemy. My rivals tend to hate me because of their bitter jealousy, but I barely notice them. Him, I _really_ don't like him."

"And he has threatened the safety of your people."

"Well, he has, but I doubt he would actually do anything to them. It'd be too much of a risk now that he's finally succeeded in taking my job, and I don't think he actually wants to hurt anyone."

"I still fail to see why you do not tell your leader, or at least John Sheppard."

"It's complicated," he bit out, refusing to grace his new found therapist with a glance. After another moment of empty silence (he hated silence) he caved and answered the question, knowing that Cadross wouldn't speak again until he was satisfied with Rodney's answer. He might be under Rodney's ultimate control, but he was definitely on the way to becoming an AI if he wasn't already there; and Rodney had stupidly informed him that he hated silence. Now the man had a weapon to make him talk.

"First of all," Rodney rubbed at his head wearily, "Dr. Weir (he didn't want to call her by her first name, it was too personal) does not have the authority to reinstate me until she has proof that Greenwall is unfit for his post. I don't have any proof of wrong doing."

"He threatened your people," Cadross pointed out.

"Yes, once, and I have _no proof_ of it. Pay attention. He only had to make the threat once, so I stupidly missed my chance to get a recording. And, before you say that my word should have been enough, I don't think it would have been. It might have been once, but they made their opinions of me quite clear after Doranda, and if I started yelling about how the man is evil incarnate without any viable proof they'd all think I was being unreasonable."

"They are your friends, they would have believed you and they would have helped you."

"I wouldn't hold my breath." The cold was beginning to become a bit of a factor here. Sure the tank wouldn't refill for another five hours and seven minutes, but the lid to the tank would seal itself in four hours and thirty-seven minutes. That meant that if he didn't figure a way out of here in four hours he'd be forced to send for help.

His legs were beginning to lose their feeling.

"Besides," he said, feeling pathetically sorry for himself, "most of the city is thrilled that they don't have to answer to me any longer."

"Your command staff and friends have stated otherwise."

"Oh please, they were just extending a common courtesy; I've been through this demotion thing before, I know how it works. They spout off false platitudes now that I've outgrown my use to them, but they want to make it look as though they're sad to see me go just in case they need my services again in the future."

"That's not what you said before. You said that John apologized to you and declared his 'undying' friendship."

"He has a sense of guilt that leads him to say stupid things that he doesn't mean, and he was concussed; I doubt he fully understood what he was saying."

"You said he was sincere."

"No I didn't!" He glared indignantly at Cadross, hating that the man looked completely dry and comfortable even though he appeared to also be half immersed in water. His black hair was nice and stylish in its many neat little braids and Rodney's was plastered flat to his skull. The salt on his skin was beginning to itch. "Fine, maybe I did. And for the record, I do not want you telling anyone, ever, that I said Sheppard confessed his undying friendship to me. Ever." He stated clearly, glaring though his headache and he was only satisfied when Cadross nodded in agreement. "Exactly how long have I been talking to you about this anyway?"

"Since we fell in here. I believe you had a lot to get off your mind."

"Yes, well you're the first being who I could safely speak to in weeks. Have we really been down here long enough for me to tell you that much?" He didn't really mean it as a question, he was just thinking out loud again, but Cadross replied with a confident 'yes' anyway. Rodney knew he'd been down here for just over two hours, but he hadn't realized he had been running off at the mouth so much. He really needed to work on that manly silence thing when he panicked.

He'd been shivering badly for a while now, and he was ready to admit that he needed help to get out of here before his slight case of hypothermia became severe. With reluctance he turned to face Cadross, the water swishing with his movement. He would have used his radio to call for help, but it wasn't working. It probably had something to do with the tank, because he knew for a tried and tested fact that they had a high water resistance and his head hadn't been submerged that long.

"Okay, fine. I need you to send a message for me," he ordered, and Cadross looked extremely pleased that he would finally be allowed to do something more than listen to him talk. "Find Colonel Sheppard and tell him I need his help and his help only. Be very clear on that point. Also tell him he'll need his climbing harness and rope. Don't let him know about my arm or he'll bring Beckett along. You can explain your functions to him and the reason I didn't use a radio, but also express that I want you to remain undisclosed to everyone. Tell him to be discreet and that this is not an emergency, okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay, great, and I want you to be careful, don't let anyone become suspicious of you."

"I doubt I will have far to go."

"Well, just in case." If Rodney had decided to be a little possessive of his new companion then he felt he had more than earned the right. He nodded at Cadross to inform him he was shutting him off and then, using his good arm, threw the looney-unit up and out of the tank. He then forced himself to slowly walk around the perimeter of the six-meter tank to try and get his body warmed up.

ooOOooOOoo

He watched them spar, quietly noting that Bridges tended to leave his kidney's exposed when he was attacked head on. He wasn't the only one out of the group of new recruits that had that problem and Sheppard was therefore fairly certain that they had had the same instructor. He grinned sharply to himself, not noticing that Lieutenant Collins, standing across the room, saw the look and was suddenly shifting uneasily on his feet. John was going to have Ronon join this group's next sparing practice, that way they'd learn to keep their sides protected the first time around. Besides, letting Ronon have at the newbies was always a good time. His grin widened and Collins looked downright nervous across the room.

"Colonel Sheppard, sir?" Sergeant Matthews suddenly appeared at his side and Sheppard stopped slouching against the punching dummy, turning to look at him. "A scientist is requesting to speak with you in the corridor, sir," Matthews informed him, and it was obvious that the scientist in question had interrupted the soldiers own workout as he wiped sweat off his face with the sweat band John had given them all upon their arrival. It was kind of a 'welcome to the galaxy' gift.

"Why didn't he just come in here to get me?" he frowned, looking across to the door but not seeing the scientist anywhere.

"I don't know, sir, maybe he was intimidated by all of the testosterone." Matthews grinned as he said this and John smirked back. Very few scientists wandered into the gym during sparring practice and the soldiers loved bringing that up whenever the opportunity arose. Rodney himself had been one of the few exceptions to this fact, as he had proven a few months before when he'd stormed into the middle of a full out brawl (times had been a little too tense for some of the less disciplined men) and verbally eviscerated the group of soldiers into a bunch of shame faced piles of terrified goo before storming out. It had been a good day.

"Sir?" Matthews called for his attention again and John sighed. He should probably see what the scientist wanted. It might involve McKay. Or a disaster of some kind.

"Thank you, Sergeant," John dismissed the man and then casually strolled out of the room, careful not to express his emotions. If this was about Rodney then something was probably wrong. He stepped into the hall quickly and spotted the scientist at the end of the corridor, pointedly keeping a distance from the gym. It took Sheppard no time to reach him and he found himself looking at him carefully. He frowned. The man didn't look familiar and John was pretty sure he would have remembered hair like that. But the uniform was right, and it was possible that John just hadn't reviewed the personnel list closely enough.

"Something wrong?" He asked, putting forth his best commanding tone as he fell into step beside the man, wondering where they were heading.

"Actually, yes. It would appear that I need your help, Colonel. Or, more to the point, Dr. McKay requires your assistance." Warning alarms went off in his head and John's gaze sharpened suspiciously at the man, who seemed completely unfazed as he stood there, hands loose by his side.

"Why don't you be a little more specific," he demanded, lowering his voice dangerously as he stopped walking. The other man stopped walking as well, turning to face him, and John looked him over again carefully. Nope, he definitely didn't recognize him.

"Colonel," he said calmly, spreading his arms slightly as though to appear harmless. "This may be a bit difficult for you to believe, but I am not actually one of the science officers on your expedition."

"Oh, that's not so hard to believe," Sheppard drawled as he looked him over. "Besides the fact that I don't recognize you, your footsteps don't make any sound when you walk. So how about you tell me exactly who you are and what you've done to McKay," he'd unclipped his holster and was resting his hand threateningly over his weapon. He kept his voice even, despite the sudden hammering of his heart and the way his entire body was flooded with adrenalin. He stared at this man before him, prepared to react at the first sign of a threat. Why the hell had he allowed this man to lead him away from the hallway his soldiers were in? It was practically a rookie mistake.

"It would appear that you are just as intelligent as he says," the man noted, and then he flickered. His entire body actually disappeared and reappeared, but this time he was wearing a shirt that made him look regal despite the thin, mini-dreadlocks that seemed completely out of place. John did the only rational thing he could think of, he jumped back and drew his weapon.

"Okay, not exactly what I was expecting," he surmised looking the image up and down as he watched John, clearly not impressed. It was an eerily McKay-ish look.

"I am Cadross," he introduced himself with a tilt of his head.

"Okay." John agreed, not lowering his weapon though he questioned its usefulness against something that was apparently not...solid. Cadross rolled his eyes, and that was definitely a McKay eye-roll. John would recognize it anywhere. "What are you?" he demanded.

"I am a holographic messenger. Rodney activated me and I have been working for him. He needs your aid, and requested that I come and find you." John stared at him…it…him, and blinked. Then he slowly reached forward with his left hand to poke Cadross (if that was his real name) in the chest. His hand passed right through him. He pulled back quickly, sighed, and then holstered his gun. There wasn't much he could do to a hologram with a bullet, unless he could find its source. He looked around quickly, not seeing anything to explain its presence.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked cautiously instead.

"He fell into an intake tank in the desalinization plant. He can't get out."

"Right. He just 'fell' in."

"That is the situation. Allow me to show you." A small holographic image sprung up between them. John started at its appearance but didn't step away. Sure enough it clearly showed Rodney walking on the catwalk above the tanks, his stride strong and purposeful, as always, until his foot seemed to just slide out from underneath him and he went toppling over the side. John stared at it, a hundred thoughts attacking his mind as he processed what he was seeing.

Cadross may have made it up. Rodney may be hurt. Rodney didn't usually lose his footing so easily. Cadross could be some sort of spy, or virus, or trap. He could be a danger to Atlantis. He could be an ally. He could simply be a holographic messenger that Rodney had sent after him because he was stuck in a tank and possibly drowning.

He needed his climbing gear.

No. He needed to verify that this story was true. He needed to get somebody to make sure this was actually a hologram and not something his mind was projecting...he reached for his radio.

"Wait!" Cadross demanded sharply, and Sheppard froze, his hand just about to activate it, giving the...being, a chance to explain itself before he brought the wrath of Atlantis upon it. "Rodney requested that you be made aware that his situation is not dire and you need not call for assistance. In fact he would greatly appreciate it if you did not mention this to anyone. He also requested that you not tell anyone about me."

"Why not?" he asked suspiciously.

"To tell you would be breaching the confidence he has placed in me as his aide and messenger."

"So he basically wants to keep you all to himself," John concluded, and found himself believing the hologram for no better reason than that the story sounded so completely plausible.

Rodney finds a holographic slave and decides to horde it, him, whatever it was, all to himself. Typical. And if John believed the hologram, then that meant that McKay was in trouble and he'd better get his climbing gear fast. He started down the corridor to his quarters with Cadross in tow.

"How long has he been down there? Is he hurt?" Maybe he should bring Beckett with him. Hell, what he should be doing is calling for a small rescue team like procedure dictated. Then again, he'd never been one to follow all the rules, and Rodney wouldn't be happy with him if he ignored his request for silence. They had enough problems with their friendship at the moment, and he didn't want to add to them, so he gathered his gear, tossed it over his shoulder and headed off. Cadross paced him the entire way, running in the most composed manner he had ever seen.

"So, Cadross. You can record things, huh?"

ooOOooOOoo

It was thirty minutes after he had sent Cadross for help that a slightly out of breath Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard leaned over the tank in search of Rodney. The moment he spotted the Canadian, the worried expression on his face disappeared and he fell back to his charming default.

"This is new," he commented, then smirked.

"Shut-up."

"Now Rodney, seeing as I abandoned a training session with my men to rush down here and be your knight in shining armor the least you could do is be polite." There were responses to make with a comment like that, but Rodney was too cold to truly care about winning this particular sparring match. So he just agreed readily.

"Yes, yes, you're right," he hissed. "Please tell me you brought some rope?" His teeth were chattering now, stuttering his words. John's eyes narrowed and then he was tossing a harness, with a rope already attached, down to him. It was tricky trying to do up the buckles tight enough with slightly numb hands, but he managed. Five minutes later he was finally sprawled safely on the deck that he had fallen from over two hours ago.

"So, how come you didn't share Cadross with me earlier?" John panted at him, like being stuck in a tank was an everyday occurrence for them.

"He's mine, you can't have him," Rodney instantly warned him off through his clenched teeth.

"I don't want him," Rodney could see Sheppard hold a hand out as if warding him off. "I just want to know why you didn't tell me about him. He's pretty cool." It was then that the looney with legs crawled across Rodney's chest and, seeing Sheppard's curious gaze, Rodney snatched it up and pocketed it quickly before the man got any sneaky ideas. He'd thank Cadross later.

"Yes, he is." He agreed sullenly, and didn't say anything else. Instead he focused on how his cold wet clothes clung awkwardly to some rather uncomfortable places.

"Care to tell me why you weren't on the buddy system for this little trip?" Sheppard wanted to know, and Rodney sighed mentally, just wanting a moment of silence.

"Buddies are in a surprisingly short supply at the moment." He answered instead. "Besides, I was only coming down here to do a quick maintenance check."

"Shouldn't a scientist with less important work to do come down here instead of you?"

"Are you kidding? This is the water desalinization system! If this isn't working properly then we would run out of fresh water supply in four days tops. That's a lot of man power to transport enough water to this city from the mainland. Leave it to someone less important, what a joke." He pushed himself up and began struggling out of the harness. It only took a moment for Sheppard to reach over and help him, which meant putting his hands in some rather personal places.

"You hurt your arm?" the soldier asked, eyeing him critically.

"It's just a pulled muscle from trying to stop my fall, and before you ask no, I don't know how I was clumsy enough to end up down there."

"You should have called me sooner, you're freezing."

"Yes, that's the side affect of sitting in cold water for over two hours. Next time I'll be sure to broadcast my tribulations sooner." He moved shakily to his feet and began heading down the ramp, trying and failing to get the blue material of his shirt to stop sticking to him and leaving a wet trail with every step.

"Two hours! Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"To check the system, where else?"

"How about to your quarters for a hot shower?" He sounded incredulous and Rodney looked over his shoulder at him, confused. "Then," Sheppard continued, "you should grab a hot drink and something to eat."

"Colonel, I'm a busy man..."

"Rodney, shut-up. I'll have Radek come down and check the system." Rodney paused, and really, he probably should check it himself just in case, but now that he was out of the tank his body was beginning to protest. His mind was fogging up a bit and his limbs felt heavy. He was still shivering enough to create the kinetic energy necessary to power a puddle jumper.

"Fine, but you make sure it's Radek."

"Oh don't worry, I will." Rodney was already heading in the opposite direction; suddenly the idea of getting warm was the most important thing on his agenda, so he didn't see the way Sheppard glanced down at a spot on the floor. He also didn't see that that small spot, close to where he had fallen earlier, had a puddle of water formed around it, but not on it. If he had seen it he would have declared it very interesting, maybe even suspicious. He didn't pay any attention whatsoever to John's rushed and quiet call to Radek and he ignored every odd look directed his way as he stormed back to his quarters. He did, however, notice Sheppard follow him into his room.

"I'm getting naked now, so you should leave." He forewarned and the military leader just rolled his eyes.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, McKay."

"I knew you were peeking in the showers!"

"Just go and get warm already, you're making me cold just watching you. I need to file a report on this incident but I can wait until you're done for the details." Rodney didn't waste another moment as he rushed into his bathroom, shut the door firmly and stepped, shaking and weak kneed, into a lukewarm shower. It took fifteen minutes for his flesh to adapt to the temperature he preferred and he finally sighed in relief. He was okay, things were fine...relatively speaking of course... at least he was okay. He was just fine. What was another brush with near death anyway?

When he finally finished warming up, John was still there.

ooOOooOOoo


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

ooOOooOOoo

Teyla thanked Ronon politely as he set her tray down on the table and sat across from her. She eyed the food that almost completely hid the plate it rested upon, and noted that it was identical to his own selection in every way. There was no way she could eat even half of this, but she knew it was the gesture that counted. It was even more important because Ronon was still trying to adapt to his new situation, still trying to figure out where he stood with the people of Atlantis and with his new team members.

Teyla was not a fool and she knew that there were several individuals of the military contingent that had been disappointed with Sheppard's choosing Ronon as their new team member. Nobody would dare approach the Runner about this, or the Colonel, but that didn't stop her from sensing the occasional unease; and if she noticed it then she was certain that Ronon had as well. Though he looked casual and comfortable most of the time, he was always intensely aware of his surroundings and those within them. The instinct of survival was not something easily driven out of someone who had been on the run for such a length of time, and it most likely never would be. This entire situation with Rodney being removed from their team had also created caution in the large man, forcing him to wonder if he had made the right decision to remain in a place that couldn't decide on its own leaders. Lately she questioned it herself, but seeing the reactions of those that mattered had reassured her that this was not a normal or acceptable occurrence.

"People are uneasy," he stated as he speared some fried potatoes with his fork and smothered them with the ketch-up sauce that Earthers seemed to consider a staple part of their diet.

"We are on the constant verge of threat, there is bound to be unease within the city at any given time," she replied calmly, digging out some of the sausage hidden beneath her potatoes.

"You know what I mean. This is new. It's like an ailment that everyone is refusing to acknowledge." She looked up at him and met his intense brown gaze, so young and old at the same time. Much like her own.

"Sometimes people are too blinded by emotions and their need to follow others, to sense that all is not right. I do believe, however, that the more time passes the more aware they will become of the changes that are taking place." He stared at her a moment, and then nodded, before turning to eat his meal with his usual, appalling, enthusiasm. She understood how much he enjoyed having food at his disposal on a regular basis, despite the fact that it had been several years since she had gone desperately without.

They didn't say anything more on the subject, both satisfied that they had confirmed they felt the same way. Teyla had noticed the change in the city's atmosphere when Dr. Greenwall had joined Atlantis. She had to admit that she had liked Greenwall. He was a generous, intelligent and friendly man who exuded the desire to make friends as well as provide solid leadership to his staff. She had been shocked when she had discovered this man was taking over Rodney's position in Atlantis, but she knew her shock had not equaled that of Dr. Weir or Colonel Sheppard.

The sheer joy so many had expressed at this sudden change in command had angered her on a level she had not felt since just before the wraith had set siege on Atlantis. She did not understand how they could react so callously and with such a lack of respect to the man who had been responsible for saving all their lives more times than they probably even realized. She had been aware that ill regard often flowed in Rodney's direction because of his harsh disposition, but she had thought that they had grown to accept this because of how hard he worked for them, of how much he helped both as a leader and as a friend.

Then again, maybe they hadn't been as aware of these facts as she was. Perhaps she had just assumed that they knew what she knew. There was one such incident that she was aware many people had no idea about. A time where he had remained awake for over two days in order to create and implement a program that made it possible to conserve enough power to operate the water heating tanks on Atlantis without depleting the city's energy unnecessarily so that they could enjoy hot showers. Showers, of all things. He declared he didn't rest because he hated lukewarm water and grouchy soldiers, but she knew that as long as he wasn't bathing in cold water he wasn't overly bothered too much about the comfort level. No, he had remained awake because he feared he would run out of time to do something nice for his people before the next disaster struck.

Now, however, it looked as though the immediate joy at having their leader replaced had leveled out. There were no complaints directed towards Dr. Greenwall that she had heard of; in fact many were still complimenting him on his intellectual ideas and his fair hand in leading his science staff. Apparently they had never received such high praise for their work in Atlantis and were overjoyed by the recognition.

Dr. Zelenka, however, had been miserable from the beginning, and he appeared less and less happy as the days went on. His misery had become glaringly apparent during their card game the evening before. She did not know Zelenka very well, but she considered him a friend and ally, especially since Rodney had placed so much faith in him over their time working together. The fact that he was unhappy made her cautious, and now that Ronon was once again stating his unease with the situation she was even more worried.

"Good morning, Teyla, Ronon." Dr. Greenwall's voice broke her from her thoughts and she looked up to find him grinning charmingly at them. He sat beside her companion and looked upon her with kindly concern. "It's good to see you moving about so soon," he enthused, and she dipped her head in acknowledgement. Of course, he was referring to the injury she had sustained several days before on their mission.

"Dr. Carson has supplied me with crutches. I find they are very useful." He grinned at that and rolled his eyes.

"You won't like them so much when they continuously get in your way."

"Are they not meant to aid?"

"Oh that's their primary function, but when you think about how much easier it is to just use your own feet they eventually grate on your nerves."

"I see," she agreed neutrally. "I did not have a chance to thank you for helping me during the mission."

"Hey, we're teammates; that's what we do," he winked at her and began eating his eggs, smearing the yoke all over his toast. "You two should come by the labs some time and take a look at the specs I'm drawing up for a new ship design."

"You've already found the time to create new ships?" Ronon questioned skeptically and Greenwall instantly shrugged self-consciously.

"Not so much 'found time' as made time. It's a hobby of mine. What I actually did was take one of my older designs and adjust it to incorporate the technology of the puddle jumpers. I doubt we'd even consider production for at least a few years from now, but it never hurts to start early. Oh, excuse me," he put his fork down politely and responded to a communiqué, listening intently. "Yes, this is Dr. Greenwall. What? No no, don't worry. Mistakes happen. I'll be there right away. Is Zelenka already there? He's on his way? Okay, I'll be there in a moment." He looked at Ronon and then at Teyla apologetically before standing. "Sorry for running away so soon, but the children are calling," he commented, and then rushed from the room with a great air of urgency surrounding him. Ronon looked distastefully at the tray of food he had left behind.

"I don't recall asking you to join us in the first place," he muttered, and pushed the uneaten food to the edge of the table. Teyla found herself staring at his hands as he pulled them back, and then met his eyes.

"Did Rodney ever express an interest in designing ships to you?"

"No. But we haven't spent a lot of time talking. And now he avoids me as much as everyone else." She nodded and went back to her meal. Before Greenwall had joined their meal she had felt fairly relaxed, despite their serious conversation. Now she felt tense. She wondered if Rodney had ever expressed an interest in designing new ships to John. She would have to ask him. However that would have to wait until the afternoon, for this morning she was on Rodney supervision.

ooOOooOOoo

It would have been very difficult for Elizabeth to not notice the tension in her office the moment she walked in. At first glance the two men sitting before her desk, waiting for their daily briefing to begin, didn't appear any more different than normal. Upon closer inspection Dr. Greenwall looked tense, whereas he was usually the ideal picture of calm confidence. Rodney was as tense as always, ineffectively trying to bury his displeasure at the entire situation, but today was different from their other briefings; today Rodney was even quieter, sitting too stiffly in his selected chair, his hands unmoving on his thighs and his shoulders squared like a linebacker. She frowned to herself as she rounded her desk, her back to them a brief moment, and by the time she took her seat Dr. Greenwall's tension seemed to have evaporated as he smiled politely at her.

"Good morning, Dr. Weir," he greeted. For an absurd moment she envisioned herself as a public school teacher who had just been greeted by the teacher's pet. When Rodney didn't even attempt to roll his eyes at Greenwall's tone (because if anyone had ever abhorred teachers' pets she knew it would have been Rodney) she decided she must have imagined it in an attempt to find something annoying about the man. Instead she smiled back politely between them.

"Good morning, gentlemen. I know this meeting is earlier than originally scheduled, but I wanted to be clear on what happened in the labs this morning." She looked between the two of them carefully. Greenwall seemed to be in complete agreement for this meeting while Rodney just sat there and waited for someone to ask him a direct question. She never thought she would admit it, but she missed her friend's abrasive, confrontational attitude that always cut to the point. Now she found herself constantly digging answers out of him.

"I understand that the accident with Dr. Keagan's project was minor," she began, glancing between them, "but what I don't understand is why it happened. Do I need to be concerned with some of our scientist's abilities to perform their jobs accurately and safely?" It didn't surprise her when McKay suddenly leaned forward in his seat, which was the reaction she had been hoping for, and she looked at him expectantly. Waiting.

"Every scientist here is fully qualified for their job," he defended earnestly. She waited for him to elaborate, but after a moment it was clear that that was all he was going to say. She looked him in the eyes, wanting to break through to the heart of the matter, wanting to understand what he was thinking.

"You originally had them assigned to different tasks than the ones they're on now, correct?" There was no response from Rodney as the answer was blindingly obvious, but his lack of reply concerned her because it was so out-of-character. She decided that a different tactic might be in order, and shifted her gaze to Greenwall who seemed eager and waiting to be addressed. "I see that Simmons was moved from project A3 to project C1 - can you tell me why?"

"As Dr. McKay pointed out, all of the scientists here are more than qualified for their jobs, and I've learned that you get better results from people when they enjoy the task that they're working on. Realistically an accident was bound to happen sooner or later, but to be honest I'm surprised that neither Radek nor Kavanagh caught the mistake before it became a problem. However; we can't always predict these things. Rest assured I will be reviewing the problem with them directly." Weir nodded in acceptance of the answer, it was a good point, but looking at Rodney she couldn't help thinking that he would have predicted and prevented the mishap earlier.

They covered the rest of the items on their agenda quickly and Rodney was rushing out of her office before she had completed dismissing them, muttering about having important work to do. She watched him sadly until a hand gently landed on her shoulder, squeezing a moment in comfort before disappearing. She looked over to find Dr. Greenwall smiling kindly at her.

"Don't worry Elizabeth, he'll come around eventually. Something like this would be difficult for anyone to adapt to, let alone someone with as much pride as Dr. McKay." Then Greenwall was gone as well, leaving her alone in her office with a fading warmth on her shoulder that did nothing to warm her inside. She wanted Rodney back, and she wanted it sooner rather than later. With that thought in mind she moved on to her own work, thinking that breakfast would just be clearing up and maybe she should go get a cup of coffee before it was all gone.

ooOOooOOoo

Rodney watched suspiciously from his seat while Ronon supervised Teyla's movements carefully as she sat upon her selected stool: one that was only a few feet away from his own. She looked like she was settling in for the long haul, and while the other scientists sharing this room with him made no remark to her sudden intrusion (most likely because of the look that Ronon had graced them with upon their entrance, and the rumor that Teyla could hand Sheppard's highly trained ass to him on a platter), Rodney was not one to sit back and observe without comment.

"Not that your presence here isn't unusual, which it is by the way, but what exactly are you two doing here?" He eyed them critically, making his displeasure known.

"I have nothing to occupy myself with at the moment due to my injury, and it is hardly fair that Ronon is the only one to provide company while I recover. Besides, you and I have not had an opportunity to spend time together as of late and I deemed this a good time."

"You think now is a good time? I'm elbow deep in important research regarding the air filtration systems involving the H2O to O2 converters that basically keep my city breathing. I have no time for conversation," he stated, annoyed. As if he was going to believe her flimsy excuse for being here when he knew for a fact that there was a lot she could accomplish around the city and on the mainland regardless of her twisted knee.

"Then we shall not converse. Thank you, Ronon," she politely nodded to the big Runner. When the man looked at Rodney the doctor made sure he was wearing his most withering glare. He didn't care if these were two of the most dangerous people in Atlantis and that most people went out of their way to remain on their good side. Rodney McKay was not into being intimidated by muscle, he had gotten over that in the third grade, mostly. Well, he had good days and bad. However, Ronon seemed more amused than anything with his display of displeasure. He grinned feral-like at Rodney, nodded briskly to Teyla, and then swiftly left the room without a backwards glance. Rodney turned to look suspiciously at Teyla once again, making sure he didn't move within her reach just in case he made her angry.

"Why are you really here?" He questioned.

"You are my friend and I am worried for your safety." She stated serenely.

"Oh my god, that man can't keep his mouth closed longer than it takes Kavanagh to complain!" Of course he was referring to Sheppard, but the snigger from across the room had him turning his glare on Evangesseci, still so new to their city. "Don't you have an important report to submit to Greenwall in ten minutes? I suggest you focus your attentions on that rather than me, regardless of how thrilling I am." He snapped and then looked back at Teyla, who was watching him rather intently. "What?"

"You have lost weight." She said to his surprise, and he was instantly self-conscious.

"Yes, it's the stress of not being in charge and having to find ways to covertly criticize incompetence. Teyla, you have more important things to do than bother me, why don't you get Sheppard to take you to the mainland? Or better yet, go threaten our cordon bleu into making a decent desert, like citrus free cheesecake!" He turned to his computer, staring blankly at the diagram he had drawn up that morning for the water to oxygen converters. He had barely spoken to Teyla all month and while he missed her, he didn't have time for this false sincerity.

"I will request this cheesecake later, for now I will stay here. Please, don't let me disrupt your work." He could feel her smile gently at him, though he couldn't clearly see her face. How was he supposed to work with his old teammate blatantly reminding him of everything he'd lost just by sitting there? He ground his teeth together and forced himself to focus.

It was a very long morning interspersed with idle chitchat by the other scientists and Teyla occasionally questioning his progress. He was actually relieved by the time lunch rolled around, because it was a good excuse to get her to leave. He politely escorted her to the mess hall, watching with interest as she easily climbed the few stairs to the seating area with her crutches. In fact, if one wanted to observe closely enough they would probably deduce that, by the way she moved, she had already learned exactly how to use the tools as an effective weapon as well as a walking aid. He escorted without thought as she went to a table in the back corner and watched as she seated herself.

"Well, thank you for the odd morning," he allowed graciously with his escape in sight. "Now I have to get back to work."

"You need to eat as well, Doctor. Those energy bars will not continue to sufficiently sustain you."

"They've been doing quite well over the last month, thank you," he bristled. Then, with his usual courtesy, he turned to leave only to find himself face to face with Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, who deftly manhandled him into the seat opposite Teyla. A moment later Rodney was hurriedly moving over one more seat in fear of ending up with the Colonel in his lap, and he found himself effectively trapped between the table, two walls, and Sheppard, who stretched out casually to block any possible escape attempt. John gave him his best shit-eating grin.

"Now Rodney, if Teyla says you need to eat then you need to eat." Rodney was still trying to figure out how he had gone from leaving to being effectively penned into the corner.

"I...you can't just...I have work to do!" He demanded and John looked even more pleased with himself, beaming with idiotic pride. Rodney glared at him, then at Teyla for good measure and slumped in his seat, no doubt looking like a petulant child and not caring in the least. It was only a moment later that Ronon deposited three heavily laden trays of food and drink on the table and, without saying a word, began dispensing plates to everyone. Rodney ended up with a mug of soup and a rather tasty looking roast meat sandwich, which he looked at with longing and annoyance as everyone else started eating.

It took him a moment to realize that the mess hall, which had been buzzing loudly with chatter when he had entered, had become rather quiet. When he looked across the table into the main room he saw that the majority of people were trying not to look obvious as they stared at them. What was their problem? It wasn't like they were the ones that had been lured into a trap and boxed into a corner with the threat of food!

When Sheppard reached out to steal a carrot stick from his plate Rodney slapped at his hand without thinking, just like he would have done before Doranda. And it was that moment, when John grinned and went back to his own plate without comment, that Rodney realized this was the first time he had been with his entire team since before his ego had ruined his life. Then Carson sat down at the end of the table with a tray of his own.

"Oh my god," Rodney uttered weakly. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

"What?" Carson asked, startled. He looked at Rodney hard, staring in a way that made him uncomfortable.

"I'm dying, and this is your way of breaking the news to me gently," he gestured around the table, pointedly including each person in the gesture. Carson's look of worry was instantly replaced with annoyance and something akin to sadness.

"And how, exactly, would I know that yer dyin'? Ye haven't been te see me in over two weeks, which I shouldn't have te point out is highly unusual." Was he snarling at the end of that gibberish? Rodney frowned at him as he continued talking, looking slightly riled up. "And ye should 'ave bloody well been te see me yesterday after that wee spill ye took off a fifteen foot ledge and subsequent two hour bath in cold water! It's a miracle ye aren't feverish yet!" Feverish? Definitely not, but he did have the mother of all headaches which he was desperately trying to fight with an abundance of different chemicals he had stocked in his medicine cabinet. He didn't mention that though, instead he turned accusing eyes on Sheppard.

"The reason I explicitly instructed you to not bring or tell anyone else is because I didn't want anyone to know! How did you miss that point?"

"Oh, come on Rodney, I only told Carson and Elizabeth (and Teyla, Ronon and Radek...but that was just a given) who, by the way, had to know. Hence the report I took after your hour long shower."

"Right, and that's why Teyla has been stalking me all morning and now you've all imprisoned me here!"

"Partially," John allowed, his gaze darkening as he picked up his own cup of soup and took a careful sip. "But for the most part it's because you've been avoiding all of us like a regular invisible man and we were beginning to forget what you looked like."

"Oh please, I haven't figured out how to bend light yet and the cloak on the puddle jumpers is too technical to adapt to a unit small enough for a person," he huffed, and then added for good measure, "and as if anyone could forget this handsome face." He picked up his soup and was about to take a sip when he realized exactly where he was and whom he was with. He quickly put the mug back down, needing a moment to assess his situation.

"Something wrong with yer soup, Rodney?" Sheppard asked casually around a bite of his own sandwich.

"No, I'm sure it's delicious, but since you already know, I pulled a muscle in my arm yesterday and it hurts to lift the cup."

"You pulled the muscle in your other arm."

"It's all physical semantics. Now, if you all don't mind I need to get back to my lab."

"I'm sorry Rodney, but the law states that you must take a lunch break within the course of a regular working day. This means that you need to eat, now," Carson, ever the doctor, declared.

"Besides, Ronon misses your company and you wouldn't want to upset him," Sheppard pointed out. Ronon looked over at Rodney a moment before going back to his own heaping pile of food.

"Why wouldn't I want to upset him? Upsetting people is what I live for."

"Rodney, eat your lunch," Sheppard ordered with the same tone he used to get Rodney to shut-up in the field. It didn't always work out there, but when Rodney's stomach growled at him again he decided to just stop fighting and get this over with, because really, arguing about eating was just dumb. He picked up the sandwich and took a large bite. The faster he finished the faster he could leave.

He didn't know what they were planning to accomplish with their actions, but he didn't have the time for this pointless gathering. He wasn't kidding when he said he had a lot of work to do. He always had too much work to do, and now it was made even more difficult because he had to covertly keep an eye on the science staff; it was difficult work making sure everyone was okay and doing their jobs properly when he wasn't actually allowed to. The accident this morning spoke of that clearly enough, and now he had to worry about his old team and the leaders of Atlantis suddenly reemerged fascination with him. As much as he would like to figure out what they meant by these actions, he didn't have time for personal drama!

"Dr. McKay, there is something I've been wanting to ask you," Teyla announced as she cut her slice of meat into neat proportions. "Have you taken any time to design new shuttle craft?"

"Of course I have, how could I not with all this new technology to work with?" He responded, and then froze momentarily in panic as he realized what he had just said. "Of course, I haven't had any time to really work on it and I've barely entered the basic design stage. It's all just scribbles jotted on napkins, nothing substantial." He backtracked, which really translated into 'I have six different basic designs but since Greenwall has once again managed to lift my work from right under my nose without me having any proof that I was the genius behind it, I really have nothing.' Bitterness didn't even begin to cover how he felt about it.

"You've been designing shuttles and you never told me?" Sheppard had no right to sound so put out by that, it's not like Rodney was never planning to show him; he was just waiting for a time when the man respected him again.

"Believe me, I wish I had." Which would have meant he had proof that Greenwall was a thieving, single celled imbecile.

"Then why don't you?" Teyla inquired.

"Because there's nothing to show. I believe the term I used was scribbles on napkins."

"Which translates to multiple sets of completed blueprints and possibly miniature models," and now John was looking very interested, just like Rodney had always known he would be. This meal was beginning to make him uncomfortable for so many different reasons. He had to maintain his distance from these people, he had decided that weeks ago, and he shouldn't be here any longer. He couldn't be.

So he picked up his napkin, deliberately wiped his mouth and hands, and then abruptly stood up, his chair bumping into the wall behind him and forcing him to stand with his knees bent. Every person at his table looked at him and he smiled tightly. What did they want from him?

"Well, it's been a lovely, awkward, and completely mystifying lunch. As you can see I've finished my meal, so if I could please be excused from the table I have work to get back to." He recognized the look on John's face as the man contemplated refusing, before he changed his mind and lazily stood himself. Rodney quickly stepped around him and into the freedom of the rest of the mess hall, and he left without a backwards glance. If the noise level seemed a bit more up beat at his exit, he ignored it. Ignoring those things made it easier to get through the day. He was back at his lab within minutes and he proceeded to try and mentally drown himself in his work.

It was less than two minutes after he had left the cafeteria that Radek walked to the table with a tray of food in hand and he looked around. The slightly hopeful look in his eyes disappeared when he saw that Rodney was no longer there and he sat dejectedly.

"Don't worry, Radek, you'll be able to catch him at lunch tomorrow," Carson kindly informed him, trying to sound upbeat about it.

"Is no use if he doesn't want to share meal with me."

"Oh please, he's so confused and caught up in his state of emergency right now he doesn't know what he wants. We'll just make sure he has more food on his plate tomorrow so that it takes him longer to eat," John supplied, but Radek didn't look appeased at all.

"I analyzed the substance you found. It is lubricant used on MALP."

"What would that be doing on the platform over the desalinization tanks?" Teyla asked, and Radek frowned in response.

"I do not know. There is no reason for any machinery in that area to use such a substance. It must be complete bizarre accident or..."

"Or it was placed there on purpose," Ronon finished for him, and Radek nodded.

"You believe someone is attempting to harm Dr. McKay?" Teyla asked, fierce displeasure colouring her voice.

"It's possible, but that cannot be proven by this small sample. Rodney was scheduled to do maintenance check later in the day. If he had gone when he was supposed to and managed to slip at that time, he might have been sealed in and drowned. We have not yet discovered how to interrupt the cycle once it starts." They sat in silence a moment and then Ronon stood just as abruptly as Rodney had before.

"It's my turn to stalk McKay," he announced, and departed.

"Have fun," Sheppard called after him merrily. His eyes, however, distinctly lacked the cheer his voice had carried. They were as hard as marble and had smoldered in anger. Carson sighed and sat back in his seat.

"So this whole lunch was to let whoever is trying to hurt Rodney know that he has friends in high places then?" He didn't sound overly thrilled behind the reasoning.

"And to remind Rodney," Teyla added when Sheppard didn't respond. It was clear that he was preoccupied with other thoughts. Thoughts that most likely centered around what he was going to do to the person trying to hurt his closest (though currently distant) friend.

ooOOooOOoo


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

ooOOooOOoo

They'd narrowed it down to four possible suspects. All four were engineers that had continuous access to the MALP, and all four of them had been off duty when Rodney slipped on the lubricant. Sheppard leaned back against the wall and watched as his suspects worked diligently on a prototype MALP that had been in the making for three months now. It was one of Rodney's new designs, half the size of a standard MALP and nearly twice as manoeuvrable. He'd thrown the schematics together while waiting for John to be released from the infirmary, grumbling non-stop the entire time because the original MALP had been effectively useless and they'd walked into an ambush. Rodney's tirade had included the questionable parentage of every scientist associated with the original design, and one or two pointed comments about dumb blondes that could only have been aimed at the esteemed Colonel Carter. Yet despite the empty insults and behind the bluster John had felt his friend's very real concern.

Ronon, standing silently at his side, crossed his arms and gazed at the group of engineers, sizing them up.

"Jennings and Kwong," Sheppard named quietly, though their targets were at the other end of the room, "have been with us from the beginning. Henderson and Sandburg came in to replace Kearney and Janson on the drop off before last. All four of them have been labelled as hardworking and dedicated."

"Greenwall said this?"

"Yeah, but Radek supported him. McKay's also made a note of praise in Jennings file, so if we were to eliminate a suspect, I would say it's probably her. There's no reason for her to strike out now when there've been so many opportunities that would have been less obvious in the past."

"Is there a connection between the other three and Greenwall?"

"They all crossed paths a few times at various projects back on Earth, but I haven't seen any evidence pointing to an association beyond that."

"Someone wiped up the lubricant after McKay's fall," Ronon reminded him and Sheppard folded his arms across his chest. It had been a few days since the incident, and the idea that someone had snuck up onto the platform and wiped away the evidence (obviously doing a bad job of it) while his friend had been trapped below, had him grinding his teeth. His gut was warning him that Greenwall was involved in the attack, and John had never been one to ignore his instinct. It's like he told Elizabeth: nobody was that nice. There was something wrong with Greenwall, an undercurrent of undecipherable emotion that had the hairs on the back of John's neck standing on edge the longer he was around.

And it was no longer just Rodney's immediate friends who had noticed this.

When they had cornered Rodney, a few days before, and forced him to have a meal with them it had been interesting to note that the people of Atlantis had actually seemed more relaxed and upbeat for about a day afterward. The almost unnoticeable tension in the city's walls had eased and there had been more smiles in the hallways. When they'd been unable to convince Rodney to join them for any more meals, the tension had slowly crept back in.

Without the constant energy that McKay produced the city seemed subdued. The man who had now been hiding from them for so long was finally being missed. A lot. It was a scenario that proved very interesting to witness, especially as there were still virtually no complaints to be made about Greenwall. In fact the man was still doing an excellent job and he had performed some fancy work on the bubble columns around the city recently that had some scientists loudly admiring his work. The problem that Sheppard had with that particular report was that Teyla had mentioned how Rodney had been working on just that project several days before.

An interesting pattern was forming and Elizabeth liked it about as much as he did, which was not at all. She'd ordered him to get to the bottom of this, discreetly, and John had no problem complying. He was going to be stopping by Greenwall's office in a few minutes to take a look at the new jumper specs that the man had been casually mentioning to people all over the city. He was very interested in this little pet project the new doctor was pushing, and besides, who was John to pass up anything to do with flying? With this in mind he slowly pushed away from the wall that had been supporting him for the better part of five minutes now. He wondered if he should stop glaring at the suspects across the way, lest they become suspicious of his attention.

"You're replacing Hathaway in stalking our ever elusive blue-shirt this afternoon, right?"

"Yeah," his ever verbose teammate grunted.

"Good. I'll take over in a few hours. I have some men keeping an eye on this bunch, but it wouldn't hurt if you joined in this afternoon. See if you can't intimidate our culprit into making a mistake."

They parted ways without another word, knowing nothing more needed to be said. This was one of the many things he had come to appreciate about his team, how easily they could sometimes understand each other and cut out language all together. John had always felt that connection, and he had thought that it had helped him to understand his friends. He used to think that Rodney was beginning to get the hang of it as well, despite the fact that silence was rarely his preferred form of communication. John snorted at the thought as he moved away. Lately McKay had apparently mastered the art of silence all together. He was going to get his friend back, no matter how long it took to convince the man to trust them again.

ooOOooOOoo

A few minutes had transformed into a few hours before John finally stepped into the well lit lab that _used_ to be Rodney's. He paused once through the door, politely thinking it shut as he looked around the large space for his intended target. Greenball was nowhere to be found.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Miko called for his attention, smiling politely at him from her lab bench across the room. "Can I help you with something?" He remembered how timid she had been when they'd first arrived in Atlantis, barely speaking to him unless addressed first, and look at her now: all grown up and taking initiative. He grinned at her, taking a moment to look at the gadget in her delicate, nimble hands before nodding his head in the direction of Rodney's old station.

"No, I'm good. I just came to badger your newest roomie, see what he's up too." It was immediately apparent that he had said the wrong thing as her eyes narrowed and she nodded coolly before turning her back on him, once again immersing herself in her work. He frowned at this but didn't comment, moving instead over to the nearest empty surface and hopping up to sit on the counter. On his left sat a box of what looked like the tiniest screwdrivers known to man, and on his right was a metal ball with a cacophony of multicolored wires spilling out of it. He was careful not to touch it as he lightly swung his heels back and forth.

He took the time to look around and tried not to feel uncomfortable by the stony silence coming from Miko. This was actually the first time he'd visited this lab since Greenwall had arrived in Atlantis, and he couldn't say he was overly impressed with the changes. Rodney had had his lab bench, the largest and most easily accessible one in the room, cluttered at all times with odds and ends that had seemed to be spilling over the edge. He'd crammed everything he could onto the available space, leaving several of the other benches untouched save for the occasional misplacement of his treasured coffee mug. It had always been amusing to watch him curse and try to carefully pile his clutter higher in an attempt at making extra room for any number of things, which included his staff's equipment as they tried to demonstrate their work or ask questions.

He wondered if Rodney had ever noticed how things were occasionally removed from the overcrowded surface, and set safely on a bench between Ashley and Miko's station, safe until he needed them again and began bitching about people touching his things. He'd never outright reprimanded anyone for it though. Besides, if Sheppard understood correctly, Rodney was rarely in this room, usually running around other labs or sections of the city in his eagerness to do as much as possible in as little time as possible.

"Where's Dr. Sauder?" He suddenly asked, breaking the silence. He was bored looking at the clean, well-organized bench that was currently not his friends. Miko didn't even grace him with a glance as she answered, head firmly bent over her work, which reaffirmed that she was definitely upset with him.

"She has moved her work across the hall. There was no longer room for her to continue in here."

"This place is huge, what was she doing, rebuilding a puddle jumper?"

"It was not her work that became too large," she informed him softly and then glanced pointedly at him. He looked around the lab once again. It looked like there was still plenty of room around for a couple other scientists in here, especially as it had so much of the important tools Rodney had been known to brag about being in charge of.

"You're saying Greenwall needs all this space?"

"He believes he does, and that is all that matters." She sounded bitter, which was completely out of character for her, and he realized that she probably spent too many hours in here alone and not enough time looking for excuses to visit her co-workers. He frowned, but he really had no idea what to say in response. So the room once again slid into silence, but this time he felt as though the irritation was not directed at him, which made a world of difference. He continued to swing his feet lightly and brushed a hand through his hair. There were quite a few items in here that he recognized, and one hell of a lot more that he'd never seen. He wanted to activate something to keep himself occupied, but after the riot act Rodney had read him (in the privacy of an Antarctica closet after he had first activated the chair with his ancient gene) he decided to heed his rather intelligent friend's advice and not play with toys that could potentially kill him, maim him, send him into a trans-dimensional reality or, worse, turn him into a women.

He sat there for a few more minutes, before the silence once again became too much for him.

"So…" he swung his head around to watch Miko. "What are you doing? Anything I can help with?"

"No, thank you," she quickly replied, looking at him as though she was worried he'd insist on helping anyway. What had Rodney been telling his scientists about him? He grinned charmingly at her and kept kicking his legs. She blinked, and then smiled very faintly before going back to work. He watched her hands as she deftly worked the casing off of what could have been an artistic coffee can for all he knew. Her fingers were long, delicate and well manicured, which was quite different from the hands he usually watched as they fiddled with one piece of technology or another. Rodney's hands were obviously larger, and thicker, with calluses that belonged to a scientist and a soldier, but they worked just as deftly, just as artistically, when he needed to. John's own hands had nails that were always trimmed back and calluses built from years of handling weapons and the controls of various flight craft. They all had their own specialties.

He watched Miko work, and wondered if he should have recruited her as one of the people to keep an eye on Rodney. She obviously had some level of infatuation with him, which was really too bad because Rodney had never shown any interest in her. She was extremely intelligent, which was a given since she was with them in Atlantis, but even more so because Rodney occasionally mentioned her name specifically when explaining various projects during command staff briefings. That by itself was enough for John to trust her, and if the disgruntlement he felt coming from her in regards to Greenwall was anything to go by, then he knew she would help without question.

Regardless of those positive attributes, however, John knew he had made the right decision to keep her out of 'Rodney's guard.' She wasn't very good at hiding her emotions, and she would have probably broken under a simple, well worded question from McKay. The small list of people, both soldiers and scientists alike, that Sheppard had recruited to help keep an eye on the increasingly elusive Dr. McKay had come to him first. They hadn't said anything indicating they understood what was really going on, but they had, very pointedly, asked how Rodney was doing. That had been enough for John to recruit their help, but he had still been careful of who he selected. He needed people who wouldn't make their actions obvious to Rodney or anyone else, especially Greenwall. So far he couldn't have asked for a better group of stalkers.

The door to the lab suddenly slid open, a bit more sluggish than John was used to seeing, and Dr. Greenwall stepped through, heading directly to the tidy bench he claimed to do work at. John eyed him from his perch speculatively. He was a tall man, and very athletic. John was aware that he had instigated a few games of basketball at the makeshift gym, and that he ran every morning. It was disconcerting to have a scientist on his team that he didn't have to order to exercise. Greenwall noticed John as he rounded his bench, and grinned pleasantly at him. John had the impression that if he had been closer to the man he would have received a friendly knock to the arm. John smiled back, hoping it didn't come across as forced as it felt.

"Colonel, I wasn't expecting to see you here," he exclaimed and John slid off his seat to walk over and casually lean against the table where Greenwall had set up shop.

"Surprise."

"It is, indeed. What can I do for you?" He asked, sincerity lacing his words and John's skin itched in unexplained irritation. The guy just made him want to break things, mainly his face, but John refused to give in to the temptation. He had always prided his ability to mislead others when he wanted to, and right now he would play ball with Greenwall until he had a firm point advantage.

"Actually, this might be a bit out of left field, but Teyla mentioned that you had some new shuttle specs drawn up and I have a bit of a weakness when it comes to anything that can fly." He hedged and Greenwall laughed sharply in delight, standing from the seat he'd just taken.

"I actually thought you would have been here a few days ago."

"You never invited me," John put on a mock pout, to which Greenwall shrugged apologetically.

"I never had a chance to; you're a busy man to track down John. Just let me just get the blue prints here." He turned his back to open a laptop that had been sitting on the bench behind them, and John noticed that Miko had stopped working for a moment, her right hand balling into a fist around the tool she was holding before she relaxed and went back to fiddling with her doohicky. Interesting.

"They're still in the earlier stages of design of course, I haven't had nearly enough time to do anything more than a few preliminary sketches." The Ancient computer screen that sat on a large chunk of the wall to their left suddenly illuminated with a solid white background.

"Just scribbles on napkins, huh?" John commented, and smirked at Greenwall when the man looked at him.

"Pretty much," he agreed readily enough. The first design that popped up had a basic frame, indicated by black lines and measurements crammed into the screens top left corner. The rest of the page was littered with diagrams of different parts of the ship. It was a very small design.

"This one," Greenwall explained as Sheppard's gaze was drawn back to the sleek outline of the basic frame, "is more of an individual transport than anything. It's not meant for more than two people, and I was thinking that its size would come in extremely handy if someone ever needed to navigate through tight places."

"Is it going to be space worthy?"

"Of course. Space and planetary, though there's obviously a lot of work that needs to be done." John could tell that was the truth.

"It's going to be difficult to develop a propulsion system small enough to fit on a ship that size and strong enough to work against a gravitational field," he theorized, rubbing at his chin.

"And that is where the main problem lies. Of course, I was thinking of removing its weapons to give it more room," he commented and Sheppard cocked a skeptical eyebrow at him. "It might be more valuable as a scouting ship," Greenwall defended.

"It might, as long as whoever's flying it isn't getting shot at." He gazed at the screen for another long minute, eyes scanning everything carefully. It was a simplistic design, but that was generally how all designs started, and John could definitely see the merit of having a small, highly maneuverable ship. He had actually mentioned that several times at the weekly staff meetings over the last year and a half, hoping to get permission to search for more ships. So far they hadn't found any.

The screen before them changed to a new design and he was looking at something that was twice, maybe even three times, the size of the puddle jumpers. Greenwall practically preened as he began pointing out different design aspects. John only half listened though, as he looked over the blueprint and came to some conclusions that had his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The ship wasn't anything special to look at, the only sleekness that lay in it was the fact that it was very long. In essence it was a puddle jumper that had been stretched.

He was dimly aware of Greenwall explaining the changes that would have to be developed to compensate for the extra length and weight. The environmental controls (the page turned and there was a schematic of the oxygen processing bubble columns and how it could be built into the walls of the ship) would have to be adapted for a large number of people. The shields would need a higher energy output (there was a note about the merits of a mini ZPM and how it would solve all idiotic problems in the bottom corner, neatly typed up). Propulsion systems would have to stretch the ships entire length and, squished off to one side in very small font, was a splurb that enthused over the merits of very large guns and unbreakable invisibility cloaks. It had Rodney's signature all over it, and if the side notes hadn't been enough of a give away John could easily see it in the way it was presented. Sheppard crossed his arms to hide his clenched hands as he examined the work that had obviously had untold hours poured into it.

"It's a cargo ship," he said, interrupting Greenwall's spiel and the man looked at John with a hint of annoyance.

"Yes, in essence." Rodney had often complained that a bigger ship would mean a lot less wasted time, as they wouldn't have to travel back and forth to their trade partners and could just obtain their 'booty' in one round trip. The Canadian had been very enthusiastic about that idea. Greenwall was still talking. "Of course it's too long to fit into the gate room, and will have to be assembled and maintained at our Beta site. This'll only mean that the goods traded for will have to be carried from the gate room to storage as opposed to being carried from the jumper bay. It also has the merits of making evacuation of a large population much easier than the tiny jumpers." The image changed again, and now it was obviously a ship designed for battle. The list off to one side entitled 'Big Ass Guns' was enough of a give away for anyone who didn't understand what they were looking at.

John understood exactly what he was looking at.

"You've done an awful lot of work on this in the amount of time you've been here," he commented, and was unable to keep the dry, sarcastic tinge from his voice. The change in Greenwall's stance was subtle as he shifted from friendly to defensive without outwardly showing it, but John had grown up in the cutthroat corporate environment, and the military, and he understood how to read people. Working with Elizabeth for over a year also gave him a distinct advantage; that woman could switch her emotions without any outward indication better than anyone John had ever known, and he had known a lot of people.

"It's easy when everything is so fascinating, and, like I mentioned to Teyla, it's a bit of a passion of mine."

"I'm sure it is," Sheppard looked at Greenwall, noting that his pale green eyes lacked true emotion, only being generous with false sincerity. "Nice work," he complimented, trying to stay in form, knowing that he wasn't doing a very good job of it. He waited to see if Greenwall was going to call him on it, and when he didn't John turned away from the screen. He passed the laptop and, with a quick glance, picked out three more files entitled: luxury line, science boat, and long haul. He couldn't be sure that they were other designs, but if they weren't he'd be surprised. He didn't pause to make it obvious that he'd looked. "Thanks for the show Doc," he called, and paused by the door to look over his shoulder. He caught the fleeting edge of a frown as it disappeared into a friendly smile and Greenwall waved.

"Anytime, I have no doubt that you would have some excellent suggestions. Perhaps we could discuss it over a meal one night."

"Sounds like a date." Not a chance in hell, Sheppard thought, and left with a wave. Greenwall would be leaving on a mission with SGA-3 within the hour and John thought he might just drop in to visit Miko some time in the near future. Maybe they could take a closer look at the designs together and he could ask her what she thought about them.

At the gate room he watched as SGA-3 arrived half an hour before their departure time and began the first of what would be three thorough checks of their equipment; Jamul, the teams lead, was a bit fastidious when it came to his team checking their equipment. Fastidious to the point of grumbling by many personnel all around, however, his was the only team that had never forgotten a single piece of equipment that might have come in handy during a mission. That included a comparison to Sheppard's own team, and that was saying something. John pulled them aside for a quick conversation, doing his part to make sure they were ready for their latest foray off base, and he resisted the urge to say that if there was any sign of danger it was okay to leave Greenwall behind. Then he went in search of Rodney.

A quick confirmation with Ronon told John that Rodney had just left lab 32 and was heading towards the location he currently shared with some of the newer, slightly less than tolerable, scientists of Atlantis. John relieved the Satedan of his guard duties, stepping in to follow after McKay himself while Ronon went off to do whatever it was he did while on stand down. He wanted to talk to Rodney, maybe ask him about the jumper specs directly to see what the guy said. There was a reason he was bowing down to Greenwall, allowing the man to step into his position within the city with barely a breath of argument. If John could just get Rodney to tell him what was really going on maybe he could finally get to the bottom of all this. Hopefully before Rodney was attacked again.

Sheppard ducked into what had probably once been used as a storage closet and waited for his friend. Okay, so maybe he wanted to hold off on his conversation with Rodney for a few more minutes and give himself a game plan before confronting the guy. It wasn't cowardly to hide like this, it was practical.

He pressed his ear to the door and listened as Rodney's familiar, fast footfalls passed him by without pause. John stepped out and quietly followed, wondering if he should just catch up to the guy now, or wait until he got wherever he was going before making his appearance. The decision was taken out of his hands however, when only a minute later McKay's footsteps stopped and he heard the unmistakable murmur of voices. John softened his own footsteps and slowed to listen, hiding in plain site around the next corner. It was Greenwall that had stopped, loudly stating that he had things to discuss before he went on his mission, but their voices had dropped in volume, forcing John to edge closer to the corner to listen, when Rodney suddenly, and very angrily, hissed:

"No, I don't think so!"

John fought the urge to immediately launch himself around the corner and go to his friend's aid. His hand settled on his sidearm instinctively, but he needed to hear this conversation, and the longer he listened the more he realized that Rodney needed him to hear it too. The urge to pull his sidearm increased with each heatedly exchanged word, until he was forced, once again, to reassess his opinion of Dr. Rodney McKay.

ooOOooOOoo


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

ooOOooOOoo

"No, I don't think so!" Rodney hissed, his voice echoing in the corridor. "You've already completely overloaded my schedule with every odd job you could find in addition to my own projects. This might come as something of a shock to you, but it's _your_ job to make sure all of these reports are correct, not mine."

"Oh, but it _was_ your job, and I therefore know that you are more than capable of handling it, McKay. Delegation is a wonderful thing," Greenwall stated snidely, self-satisfaction practically dripping from his words.

"Yes, it is. Why didn't I ever think of utilizing it more? Oh wait, here's a concept you might try wrapping your empty head around: because the Head of Science needs to be the ultimate authority, not his staff! _They_ are specialists, _you _are supposed to simply be a genius in everything." Rodney hissed and he just knew his face was turning red with emotion. Greenwall cocked his head at him and tried on a supportive smile that never reached his eyes.

"I'm sensing a little anger here, Rodney, perhaps even some resentment. Are you dissatisfied with your current work environment? Perhaps you feel you're no longer capable of handling your duties? You know you can always confide in me if you're having issues with your co-workers."

"It's Doctor McKay to you and let me be clear when I state that I am more than capable of handling my duties. _My_ duties, as in singular, as in duties that are not yours, and I am not doing any more of your work for you! You wanted this job, and congratulations you've got it. So you had better damn well start doing it yourself."

"But Dr. McKay," Greenwall placed an emphasis on his title that made his teeth ache, "I don't need to start doing it for myself, seeing as you're already doing enough for the both of us." The edge to that accusation stopped Dr. McKay's next refusal cold and the Canadian stared at the handsome man standing tall in front of him. He _knew, _Rodney thought suddenly and then frowned to himself. Did he know? How did he know?

"That's because you're too incompetent to assign manageable work loads." Rodney declared, trying to determine exactly what Greenwall was implying. Apparently he didn't really have to try all that hard.

"No, it's because you've been hacking into systems all over Atlantis and checking up on my people's work," Greenwall said, his smile never dropping from his lips and Rodney tried to not let his panic show on his face. Greenwall did know about Rodney keeping an eye on things. This was not good. "You do realize that's a breach of security don't you?" the man asked casually, as though Rodney had simply been taking longer lunch breaks than his fellows. "What would the fine, upstanding citizens of Atlantis and the SGC think about you hacking into their projects without their consent or approval? I think that's an offense punishable by a one way trip back to...I don't know...China?"

Rodney's vision went momentarily white with shock and he sucked in a bitter, choked breath.

"You bastard," he hissed, the strain from refraining to punch Greenwall had him physically tightening his shoulders to the point that he had a sharp pain shooting directly into his brain. "You bastard!" He was so unbelievably angry he couldn't even come up with an insult more creative than that, but sometimes the simplest insults were the most honest, or at least in the case the most felt. He stepped closer to Greenwall, still a good few feet away, and spots of angry red stars were flashing in his vision. "You stole my thesis," he accused, voice hissing like an angry snake. "You deliberately left me in _their _hands for days before telling authorities that I wasn't sick but actually missing! You presented my work as your own at the national conference and then blackmailed my right for justice into oblivion! You came over here and took over my job, in my city, with my people; you threatened me with my scientists safety and that of this entire operation and now you're threatening to send me back to earth!" He hissed, with so much disgust towards his home planet he surprised even himself. He blinked, and then took a deep breath, preparing to launch another tirade at the arrogant, lying, cheating, disgraceful example of an educated being, when he was suddenly, simply, derailed. By another smile and a placating hand raised, mockingly, in his direction. Greenwall's dimples deepened in the corridors bright light.

"Yes, I am," and he actually laughed at Rodney, his eyes flashing with a sinister jealousy that apparently only Rodney ever saw. It made him sick to his stomach, how two-faced this man was and nobody but him realized it. Every time he had tried to point it out he had been shut down, turned away, laughed at to the point that he had to find a way to help himself. "Odd, isn't it? How a mind as incredibly bright as yours has been manipulated and used so many times," Greenwall sneered. Then he stepped in close to Rodney, invading his personal space. "Four and a half days is a long time to be a prisoner. Statistics state that you should have been dead after the first forty-eight hours. Imagine my surprise when, after waiting so long to announce that you were missing in action, I found out you were still alive." He inhaled deeply through his nose then, smelling him and Rodney reacted instantly, shoving him away with a considerable amount of strength. Something fell from his pocket and clattered to the ground but he paid it no attention as he watched Greenwall stagger and then regain his footing. The man continued from his new position as though nothing had happened.

"Four and a half days, and barely any physical scars to show for it...tell me Rodney, what kind of torture doesn't leave scars?"

Rodney held himself taller, forcing himself to overcome the pain, fear, disgust...hell he could go on forever about how these memories made him feel. This man had no right to even consider what Rodney had been forced to suffer, and he knew it. Greenwall was doing everything he could to break Rodney without ever having to touch him. It wasn't going to work.

"I didn't break then and I sure as hell am not going to let you break me now," Rodney icily announced to the only other man in the hallway.

"Yes, yes I understand. You always were overly melodramatic, though I suppose it was the only way anyone would ever pay attention to you. However," and the man actually had the audacity to break their heated staring contest to look at his watch, "I don't have time to continue this conversation now. I want you to go over the reports we discussed and sum them up for me. I'll deal with your insubordination later. Be sure to do a good job, okay? You don't want to set a poor example for your co-workers, and I know you want to stick around." Then Greenwall lifted his leg and drove his heel into the ground with all his weight. There was a crunching sound as he crushed his heel into the floor and twisted. When he was gone Rodney looked down to see Cadross, or what had been Cadross's unit, lying broken before him. Two of its delicate legs had completely snapped off and its previously invisible seam was now split open to reveal its complicated, glittering innards.

Without a word Rodney turned and left. When he reached the pier that stood the furthest from any populated area in the city he stood at its edge, looking over the ocean and the bright, blue sky. He opened his mouth wide and screamed, long and loud. When he was done he calmly collected himself, wiping the sweat from his brow, and regaining his breath. Then, with his mask of indifference firmly in place, he went back to the labs. He had work to do, and he wasn't going to risk being deported from the only place he had ever really considered a home, despite how it was treating him lately.

It was only a few hours later, with a headache that was getting progressively worse and a sore throat that had been aggravated by his furious vocal release, when the door swooshed open and Zelenka stormed into his lab, hands curled into fists at his side. There was only one other individual in there with Rodney and, much to Rodney's reluctant amusement, the Czech stopped in the middle of the room and looked around sharply before directing a piercing glare at the scientist.

"Exist somewhere else, please," he demanded. Dr. Keagan's eyes widened at the tone and his gaze drifted between the Radek and Rodney. It was a cold day in hell when Radek was suddenly the bad guy out of the two of them. "Now! Exist somewhere else _now_! Why nobody listens..." and he was off chasing Keagan out with a string of Czech that somehow managed to sound both hostile and pretty at the same time.

"I have got to start yelling at people in another language," Rodney muttered, and then turned back to his work, pointedly ignoring Radek. There was silence for a very long thirty seconds as the shorter man stared at him from across the room before he stormed up and slammed his hands loudly on the table's surface. Rodney sighed dramatically and looked over at him before waving his hand about impatiently, silently ordering Zelenka to spit it out already. He had been watching Zelenka carefully these last few weeks and he knew exactly how overworked he was at the moment. This tantrum had been a while in the making.

"First," Radek pointed angrily at the ceiling, "you accuse me of professional jealousy and I back away while you blow up solar system! Then you apologize and I am too angry to listen. Then I try to apologize and you are too Canadian and avoid me!" Now Rodney was pretty sure that Canadians in general were as varied in personality as the rest of the world, so saying that all Canadians avoided things was very...politically incorrect. He frowned at the man before him, wondering if he should risk making a comment. Zelenka seemed to be on a roll though as he continued gesturing sharply at the air. "I invite you to dinner, but you refuse. I try to find you for breakfast and it is as though you fall off face of city. You slip on lubricant and fall to possible imminent death and you don't even call me for help! Then Greenwall is here and not doing your job very well and I have everybody coming to me for help! I don't know what you have been doing these last weeks but you need to be in the labs helping us! You dumb, stubborn... physicist! And now Greenwall has scientists wrapped around his thumb like string and he is such unworthy person he is only good to...to..."

"Bream the puddle jumpers?" Rodney suggested helpfully.

"Yes! Whatever that is, yes! Exactly! Elizabeth can find nothing wrong to send him back to Earth and you have not complained even once officially or unofficially about his presence here! What is wrong, Rodney? And do not continue to pretend that this has anything to do with Doranda, because it does not!" This was officially the angriest Rodney had ever seen the man. Radek arriving to the point where he insulted other scientists and couldn't properly insult Rodney probably meant he was close to committing scientific mutiny...or that he was channeling Rodney. And the obvious concern, the caring in his eyes and voice... Rodney suddenly stood up and walked around the table. He grabbed the startled man and pulled him into a rather crushing hug, releasing him a moment later and stepping back around to his stool again, trying to look nonchalant about the action. That was the first time he had hugged his friend. Hell, he had never really hugged anybody on Atlantis except for Ford. He didn't think keeping Weir warm on that rainy pier with Kolya looming behind them counted. He supposed he could attribute that to the fact that he wasn't the friendliest of individuals, but he had missed his friend, now that he was willing to concede that maybe Radek still was his friend, and that little show of manly affection was his only way of telling him that.

He watched as Radek stood there and set his glasses straight on his nose, and then wiped away invisible crinkles on his clothes, looking inordinately relieved as he accomplished the task. Rodney frowned at him, suddenly feeling a bit awkward and defensive for his uncharacteristic action.

"What?" he demanded and glared across the workbench as Radek huffed out a little sigh.

"What what?" the man looked at him and blinked innocently.

"The sigh, the look of relief, what's that all about? I can hug people you know," he crossed his arms.

"Oh," Radek seemed to shake himself quickly before shrugging. "Yes, of course you can hug," he agreed much to Rodney's ire. Rodney crossed his arms and glared at him. "Forgive me if I am unused to such public displays of affection," Radek huffed out and finished straightening his already straight clothes.

"There's no one else around," Rodney instantly pointed out.

"Is probably a good thing. We can't damage your prickly bear image or you will cease to be useful for controlling the masses."

"I do not have a prickly bear image," Rodney pretended to bristle on principal, which Radek seemed to understand instinctively.

"Of course not. You are cuddly as baby sugar squirrel. So we are finished avoiding each other now? Because, strangely, I miss having someone to complain to about all that is wrong with galaxy."

"Amen to that," Rodney agreed softly.

"So, now you tell me why you have not made any effort to regain your position in Atlantis. Is obvious that you should never have been demoted, rumour says the decision was not backed up by many back on earth," he stated. Great, Rodney thought despairingly, now that he had finally found his friend again he was going to chase him away again. Because he still wasn't sure he wanted to trust anyone with his problem right now. He was buried a little too deeply and he had been working so hard at keeping everyone else uninvolved that telling Radek could cause more problems then solutions. Then he remembered something that the Czech had said earlier in his tirade and Rodney was suspicious all over again. He narrowed his eyes at the man standing across the lab bench from him.

"I slipped? On lubricant? I almost died because of a substance that had no business being anywhere on or near that platform?" He asked, and then things began falling into a far too familiar pattern and he glared even harder. "Someone tried to kill me, and now everyone's finally realized that they don't want me to 'disappear' when they might need my help in the future!" Radek looked completely stunned at the accusation, and Rodney figured that maybe it wasn't what he thought, but he carried on anyway, his conversation with Greenwall still too fresh, and his wounds were still too raw to overcome a lifetime of being used. "This has nothing to do with friendship, and everything to do with the fact that you're only worried because someone is out to kill the most valuable brain in this place. And now you say you're pretending that you actually give a damn about what's wrong with me? You're probably the one assigned to guard me this afternoon to make sure I don't 'accidentally' fall off of the city's tallest pier!" At Radek's incredulous look Rodney pointed an accusing finger at him. "Don't think I haven't noticed that certain people have been keeping a little closer than is normal. Today Hathaway was practically hanging off me all morning, and I know for a fact that he should have been with Terrance working on those cell cultures," he paused a moment to take a big breath...

"Actually, sentry duty's my job at the moment. I think Radek was just angry that he hasn't been able to grab a decent meal with you. Between you and me, I think he gets lonely," Sheppard drawled as he stepped through the lab door and then leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression closed. The bright light of the room mingled with the darkness of his grey jacket and black t-shirt making him seem unusually pale.

Rodney glared between the two men and firmly held onto his anger as he studied them. Radek still looked a little bewildered, but even this closed-off version of Sheppard looked as if he were seeing Rodney for the first time. Then something shifted in the soldiers green eyes, and his expression faltered revealing both guilt and sadness, and the memory of their friendship – Rodney suddenly realized that Sheppard had been trying (rather pathetically) to get back into his good graces for a while now.

"Well, you're doing a lousy job of it!" He snapped, and Sheppard's frown curled into his version of a charming, satisfied smile that turned so many heads in Atlantis and on other planets...it was the same grin that he had given Rodney back at lunch after being smacked for trying to steal his vegetables. It was the smile that said things were normal again, and it made Rodney feel warm and it stirred up all kinds of emotional friendship mush within him. Rodney also thought the grin looked a little demented, but he'd grown used to it over the last year and a half. To hide how he felt, he scowled darkly at the man and looked back at his computer. "Well, since you're guarding the most brilliant and ridiculously demoted mind in the galaxy, you can get me a coffee."

"Nope. Sorry," Sheppard immediately vetoed the idea, "but you've got some explaining to do," and just like that the mirth was gone from Sheppard's eyes. Rodney missed it immediately.

"What? Explaining? Is it something technical? You want me to tell you how those pretty bubbling columns of water are oxygenating our city?" He knew Greenwall had already given them that report, but maybe the man hadn't explained it clearly enough? It wouldn't surprise Rodney if he hadn't.

"No," Sheppard drawled slowly from his perch. "I want you to tell me why you haven't shown me your spaceship specs. As the best pilot in this galaxy I think my input would be valuable." The pilot in question's eyes narrowed and Rodney rolled his own in response, instantly on guard and needing to deflect this line of questioning.

"I'm sure your highly developed aeronautical and MENSA skills would be a great asset, but I distinctly remember telling you before that I have nothing conclusive to show."

"No? So the six basic ship designs that Greenball presented to me were actually his?" Rodney clenched his fists, dropping them to his side to hide them from view. "Because I've got to tell you, after looking at your work for over a year now and understanding at least a little of how your mind works, it was pretty clear that your signature was all over 'his' work."

"It's Green_wall_," Rodney corrected automatically, "and you can't possibly understand me that well."

"Not you, your technical design methods; I doubt I'll ever fully understand you. Don't you listen to what I say?"

"I try not to."

"So the fact that he's apparently been threatening your scientists and friends to keep you quiet these past few weeks has nothing to do with your lack of blatant disapproval over this entire situation?" Sheppard dropped his bomb casually and Rodney glanced up at him in shock and surprise.

"How did you-"

"The fact that he stole you're graduate thesis and successfully presented it as his own has nothing to do with it? The fact that he was somehow responsible for you being tortured in China has nothing to do with it?" By now Sheppard was growling and advancing on Rodney in a scary alpha male pissed off sort of way, his eyes flashing in anger. "You know what this tells me about you, McKay, that you haven't mentioned any of this to me? It tells me that you have some serious trust issues. It also tells me that you're even more stubborn and pig headed than anyone in Atlantis, or on Earth, has given you credit for! Why didn't you tell me he was threatening our people?" Sheppard demanded.

"Because I had no proof!" Rodney yelled back, the dams suddenly breaking and his frustration leaking into his voice for all to hear. "Because nobody would have believed me! Because it was difficult to bring up in a conversation when nobody was talking to me? Take your pick! I'm not a well-liked person Sheppard, and lately people don't want to hear what I have to say!"

"No, it's that lately you don't trust us enough to listen!" Sheppard immediately countered. "You've had people in your department chasing you for advice for at least a week now, and you don't even see them! You've forced me to set up a sentry detail just so I know where you are! You haven't spoken to me or to anyone else on our team until we've literally forced you to! You've completely shut out Carson, who I know you're not mad at, and you've been dodging Zelenka every chance you get. This is not just about us not trusting you Rodney, it's about you not trusting us and it's about all of us needing to regroup and kick your ass until you remember that even when we get angry, we are still your friends! I am still your goddamn friend! How many times do I have to tell you this?" Rodney stared at him with wide eyes and swallowed thickly.

His mouth gaped and he forced it closed. He had absolutely no idea what to say to that rather empowered speech, but he had to say something.

"Well," he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That clears up a few things doesn't it? Should I expect that coffee to be coming my way anytime soon or do I have to send Zelenka off to get it?"

"You asshole!" Sheppard glared.

"Yes, that's one of my more flattering nick-names." Rodney once again crossed his arms.

"You?" Radek spoke up suddenly and Rodney looked over to find him gaping, his eyes wide and looking ridiculously shocked. It was true he'd probably never heard Sheppard ever say that much before, but Rodney highly doubted it was worth that level of surprise.

"Yes, me. Very good Radek, you've just reminded me why you're the second smartest man in Atlantis," he snapped. Personal dramas. He hated them. Well...he hated them whenever he wasn't the instigator.

"In China, when you were sick, you were not sick at all...there were such rumours about an organization taking people…hurting them…and they had you..." In that moment Rodney was sure that his face had turned four shades paler as he realized that Sheppard had actually said that. He had actually said that Rodney had been tortured in China. Rodney hadn't imagined it. He quickly looked back to his work, trying to stop the sudden tremor in his hands. The tremor that only ever controlled him late at night when he'd slept too long and the dreams came to haunt him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was sick." He told them both.

"But Rodney, you-"

"I was sick, and that's final," he snarled. The silence that followed was as uncomfortable as he had predicted this scenario would be, and his damn hand was shaking harder so he dropped it to his side to hide and pretended he only needed one hand to go over his data. Everyone in the room knew that he wasn't seeing the images on the screen before him.

"Right, well...now that we've all crossed some rather significant lines why don't you tell me why you never told me about the threats Greenball made." Rodney was verbally dragged from his memories back into the present, picking up where they had left off before Radek had made his brilliant connection.

"I didn't have proof Sheppard, I already told you that."

"And you thought I wouldn't take you seriously?"

"I assessed all the variables and came to the conclusion that I was alone in this matter. Apparently I was wrong, fine, it's not that uncommon these days."

"You're damn right you were wrong! Elizabeth and I have been trying to figure out a way to get rid of him since he got here. That little tidbit of information about threatening our people would have been useful."

"Oh thank god, we can get rid of him now. I need to be sane again," Radek clasped his hands together and shook them as though praying to an Atlantian deity.

"Oh yes, goody. You overheard us arguing: the head of science versus the ex-head of science. That's all good and great, except that hearsay isn't admissible as evidence," he snapped.

"No, but recordings are," Sheppard said and Rodney looked at him sharply.

"You were recording us?"

"No, but Cadross was."

"Cadross?" Radek questioned, trying to place the name.

"Cadross was broken." Rodney ignored him.

"No," Sheppard disagreed, "Cadross was bent out of joint. Miko thinks she can fix him in no time. She said it's basically just a matter of stuffing everything back inside." Rodney was suddenly filled with hope that he knew was reflected in his eyes. He hadn't allowed himself to dwell on the fact that Cadross might be fixable, he was so upset that he was destroyed in the first place that he had stormed off in a rage. But if Miko thought the messenger could be put back together, then chances were that he would be...which meant that Rodney would have his sounding board and holographic friend back! And wow, that wasn't a little bit pathetic, was it?

"He only records if I turn him on," he remembered suddenly, frowning and Sheppard actually smirked at him.

"No, he only delivers specific messages that you instruct him to record when activating him. He actually records most things all the time."

"What? He never told me that!"

"You just worded your questions wrong," John smirked and, for once, Rodney was too relieved at the new revelation to be irritated. If he was right, then Rodney might have the evidence he needed to get rid of Greenwall once and for all. Finally.

"Who is Cadross and why does he need fixing?" Radek asked again, looking intently between them and Rodney was beginning to feel better than he had in weeks despite his pounding headache and the weakness in his bones. His life was finally getting back on track and the people that he needed to be there were finally pulling through. He honestly hadn't thought it would happen, but he was very, very glad that he'd apparently misjudged their intent towards him.

"Cadross," Rodney replied as Sheppard blatantly turned away from their conversation, "is my holographic Atlantian assistant."

"Hey, we have a team returning," Sheppard suddenly interrupted, pulling his hand away from his radio. He looked at Rodney with a dangerously satisfied smirk. "It's the one Greencall went out with after your little argument in the hallway. What say we give him a nice little welcome home party?"

"I think that's the best idea since world peace and sliced bread," Rodney declared, beginning to feel a bit giddy. He forcefully reined his emotions in and they were off, walking at an energetic pace towards the gate room. Side by side, as it should be. His ecstatically happy and gleefully vengeful mood was shattered however, as soon as he walked into their majestic destination. The Stargate, which had just finished regurgitating the returning team, closed with a final whoosh and his eyes were automatically drawn to the cart that had been pushed a short way from the deactivated gate. Greenwall was happily standing beside it, looking smug as he awaited Elizabeth's approach.

Rodney made it to her side sooner.

"Elizabeth," he said as he, Sheppard, and Zelenka stepped up beside her. "We have a problem." She looked at him, startled momentarily by his presence before she took in the look on his face. Instantly she was all business.

"What is it?"

"That," he nodded to the object on the trolley, and Zelenka was beginning to breath more quickly than normal as he recognized what the problem was, "is a bomb." Then, as Rodney watched it from his place across the room, several lights blinked on. They were mostly obscured under the semi-detached cone shaped lid, and he knew his bad day turned good day had just plummeted straight into a fiery hell.

"And it's been activated."

ooOOooOOoo


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

ooOOooOOoo

Elizabeth looked at the object that SGA-3 had just wheeled, not too gently now that she thought about it, into her city. It didn't look dangerous at all; in fact it resembled nothing more than a large, plump, metallic vase with a cone shaped hat sitting gently on top. In other terms it looked like an innocuous retro-lamp from the seventies. She looked back at Rodney who was staring at the object as though he was already dissecting it in his mind, and trying to figure out how to disarm it quickly. Then, with a rather violent start, he was rushing towards the object and Dr. Greenwall with a look that boldly screamed 'if you get in my way you should stop contemplating your existence because you'll be nothing but an inconsequential smear of the past by the time I'm through with you.' It was that look that had two startled soldiers hastily step aside so he could storm by unhindered. When Greenwall finally noticed Rodney's approach the sinister and ugly look that briefly flashed across his face took her by surprise.

"Don't touch that!" Rodney barked as he roughly pushed his way between the object on the trolley and Greenwall, forcing the larger, strongly built man back a step. To say Greenwall was not amused by the treatment was an understatement.

"McKay, I don't remember giving you permission to be in the gateroom," his tone was clipped but he was the poster boy of forced politeness.

"As if I need your permission," Rodney spat, even as he was already turning his back on his adversary and examining the top of the object. His frown deepened, Greenwall's face turned red, and Elizabeth decided that it was probably a good time for her to step up and take charge of this situation.

"Dr. Greenwall, please do as Dr. McKay asks."

"You have got to be kidding me!" He blurted out, looking at her with contempt and not a hint of his usual kindness. "You have no idea what kind of damage he could cause here!" he declared, waving a hand at Rodney's crouching form.

"No more than you at this moment," she said forcefully, because let's face it; he had brought an active bomb to Atlantis and didn't even seem to realize it yet. The thought of questioning Rodney's assessment of the situation never even crossed her mind, and she saw that Rodney was beyond paying attention to them at this point. He dropped to his knees, the impact loud in the room, and was trying to look up underneath the objects 'hat.' It obscenely reminded her of little boys trying to look up girls skirts. The soldiers of SGA-3 were standing close by and watching the entire exchange alertly, the others were still poised around the room with their weapons raised as they hadn't been told to lower them yet. They were the epitome of professionalism, if one chose to ignore their flickering glances as they searched for further instructions. Elizabeth was too busy trying to figure out what was going on herself to respond as she watched her two top scientists scuttle around on the floor. John didn't even pretend to acknowledge his soldiers.

Radek was on the other side of the weapon and muttering hurriedly to himself as Rodney liberated some kind of scanner from his back pocket, running it over the metal casing in quick, broad strokes. He passed it around to show Radek, making sure not to touch the bomb, and they shared a grunt that apparently passed as effective communication.

"This could be one of the biggest mistakes you'll ever make, Elizabeth," the contempt was gone from Greenwall's voice as he switched tactics and turned pleading eyes to her. She hated the way he said her name, his voice laced with the sincerity he had shown since arriving here. "McKay isn't fit to be in charge. He is unstable, his past clearly shows that, and he is a threat to everyone on this base."

"Oh please," the said scientist muttered from his crouched position on the floor. "You want to start with the 'you're so stupid' jokes at a time like this? I do not need to deal with your manipulative, half-brained arguments right now," he snapped a little louder. The irritation in his voice actually seemed to calm the anxious soldiers around them, who had been watching him with growing trepidation as he examined the ancient artifact with a look of doom on his face. At the moment the terror seemed to have passed and Rodney's expressive features were dark with impatience and anger. It was amazing how his snark, which had once annoyed her so much, actually made her feel better now.

"You watch your tongue, McKay. You're out of line and I'm ordering you to leave the gateroom at once." A strained hush fell across the room at Greenwall's words, but Rodney didn't even look up to acknowledge the order or the man who was currently his boss.

"Or what, you'll demote me again? Please," he huffed in disdain, otherwise ignoring Greenwall. She recognized that Rodney was paying next to no attention to the conversation, he was merely spouting off words between his hasty examination of the weapon that sat before them. In other words he was acting as he would be in any other life or death situation. There was sweat beading at his hairline and his hands were as steady as a rock.

"Okay, that's enough," Elizabeth snapped sharply, glaring between them a moment. She was about to demand an update on the situation when Greenwall suddenly snarled, startling her from her thoughts.

"It sure is!" He took a threatening step towards Rodney with obvious intent to do harm. The soldiers were too far away to react with anything but deadly force and she heard John move to rush forward at the same time that Greenwall advanced. But none of them needed to worry as Rodney chose that moment to quickly stand up, and with a graceful, sharp twist he was swinging his elbow up and around until his appendage connected solidly with Greenwall's jaw, an audible snap echoing throughout the room. As the large, stunned man started to topple forward Rodney placed both hands on his chest and shoved him back. Hard. Greenwall fell over like a sack of potatoes, crashing to the ground where he remained, eyes roaming about dazedly. There was a moment of stunned surprise that enveloped the room as Rodney then squatted back down and asked Radek something about crystalline trip wires and whether they should be a white-translucent or a pearl-translucent. Radek answered shortly without giving the slightest hint that he had any discernment of what had just taken place. He probably hadn't.

The momentum John had propelled himself into as Greenwall had begun his advance had slowed and now he stood beside him, hand on his sidearm, looking down with a satisfied smirk.

"Rodney, you just knocked him out with your elbow," he stated the obvious, pride in his voice. He glanced at SGA-3 and then nodded down at the stunned man, bragging about McKay's victory with his eyebrows which seemed to say: Let's see your scientist do that!

"I need my hands, Colonel. Now can you please get that piece of recycled waste out of here so I can concentrate? He breathes like an ox."

"Sure thing. Archibald Greencall..."

"It's Green_Wall_," Rodney corrected and Sheppard rolled his eyes. It was plain to see that he couldn't care less about the name of the man at his feet, but he corrected himself for Rodney.

"Archibald Greenwall, you are being placed under detainment for threatening the commanding science officer with the lives of the members of this expedition, and attempted murder. You will remain there without trial until the Daedalus is able to escort you back to earth. Rafat, Gillcrest!" He barked and the two soldiers smartly stepped forward. "Take him to the holding cell."

"Yes, sir." They snapped out and John looked at Elizabeth. She nodded her approval at his handling of the situation. Apparently John knew a lot more than she did about Greenwall at the moment, and it was frustrating to not have a solid grasp of the situation despite the fact that she had a general idea. She knew that John would have brought her up to speed at the earliest opportunity, and apparently this was it.

"Holding cell B," she spoke up suddenly, staring hard as Greenwall began to try and sit up on his own. The soldiers nodded stoically.

From the centre of the room something loudly clicked on the object and Rodney, who had been careful to not touch it through his entire examination, suddenly pulled out his specially rigged pocket knife and practically dove on the device, beginning to pry something near its top off. "Okay," he called out demandingly, "everyone needs to leave this room immediately. As in right now, people! Aurevoir, vamoose, sayônara, adios, hasta luego, as in goodbye and stop being a distraction!" He barked out, his pupils zeroing to little pinpricks as he hastily slid to the side and began to gently repeat his prying actions. Zelenka sat back and watched, pushing his glasses up his nose repeatedly.

"You heard him!" She barked out, and the room erupted in activity. She calmly watched as all the personnel quickly evacuated and then she stepped up to join John as he stood over the two crouched scientists and their apparently impending death.

"That means you too, people! The last thing I need here are distractions!" Rodney slid over a bit more and hurriedly continued prying. She looked at Radek and he gazed up at her, frowning. She asked with her eyes if it would make a difference if they left, and he somehow understood and shook his head negatively. It was very apparent that John wasn't about to budge, and Radek was firmly planted on his knees beside Rodney, waiting to help. She sure as hell wasn't going anywhere, despite the chill of fear that had crept down her spine and made her chest tight. Rodney didn't say anything else though, because he really did need to concentrate.

A few tense moments passed and then he was carefully lifting the hat off the object and tossing it aside like a broken frisbee. He was close to panicking, she could see it, but like all the other do-or-die situations they had been thrust into he refused to go over the edge. The fact that he wasn't vocalizing his panic told her that they didn't have much time. He would work on this to the end.

She looked at the revealed innards of the explosive and almost went cross-eyed: there were at least forty crystals set in a spiral pattern connected through a multitude of wires and set in pockets of what looked like wet, bluish glue. The last spiral sat on the edge of the devices rim, and there were...she quickly counted...eight crystals not yet lit. The eight then became seven and Rodney looked over it with eyes shifting so fast he might have been in a speed-reading contest.

"Okay, blue...conductors...tripwires there...that one's burnt out...changes the whole goddamn sequence...there's the sequencers...blocks...those could be blocks..."

"The pale orange must be the energy input." Radek gazed at the device alongside Rodney, his frown deeply in place.

"Yes, but they're not in the same place as the diagram that we found in the database," Rodney grunted. At least she knew that they had seen this weapon before, even if it was only on a computer screen. The moments ticked by and another crystal flared to life leaving five left and she was beginning to feel slightly detached from the entire situation: she couldn't help, standing uselessly by while the two smartest scientists on this expedition tried to once again save the day. Another crystal, a pale pink one, began to glow. Four left.

"It's all very simple, very structured; the colour sequence and the way that they're all connected through the crystal based wire and the blue liquid must be the direct energy conduit that's powering them. If we remove the energy source from the liquid it would cut off the power and deactivate it."

"You cannot guarantee that the liquid..."another crystal clicked on "is all connected between the crystals. Each one is separated," Radek argued, staring as intently as Rodney.

"It's separated on the top so that the crystals," which were the approximate size of a pen cap, "have a stable support system that keeps them erect and not falling into each other. I'm going to pull out the energy source."

"You shouldn't just pull without knowing what will happen," Radek argued softly.

"Yes, I should." Rodney looked like he was bracing himself for the mother of all hail-mary's. There was one glowing crystal left.

"Rodney," Sheppard warned smoothly, and that was all the encouragement he needed as the scientist reached into the very center of the crystal spiral. His hand wasn't shaking at all, and Elizabeth was clenching hers tightly behind her back as she could do nothing but watch. Then he was smoothly pulling out the yellow crystal that sat at the heart of the spiral, and almost immediately the crystals began to lose their energy until the only glow coming from them was caused by the overhead lights shining upon it. Rodney tossed the crystal casually to Radek, stood up, and clapped his hands together sharply.

"This is a terra bomb," he explained loudly, his voice echoing off the almost empty gateroom's walls. "The ancients deposited them on planets that had been destroyed, for one reason or another, to a point that it couldn't recuperate by itself. This device was designed to wipe out all life and matter left so that the planet's crust, atmosphere and stratosphere could be terraformed from scratch into a new living and breathing planet. It was their version of a last ditch attempt at reviving what they lost. The Ancients wanted this particular bomb to be disarmed easily, obviously because it isn't an actual weapon."

By now all four of them were standing around and looking down at the object that had been brought back from what was apparently a terraformed planet. In hindsight that would explain why the planets landscape had been almost barren, the pictures they had gathered through the MALP had shown her lots of rock, scraggly grass, and what looked like trees struggling to exist. She sighed to herself as Rodney continued his explanation.

"Obviously it's a bit broken, or else it wouldn't have activated simply upon its arrival in the city. We won't know how much destruction it could have caused just now until we investigate the power source." He shrugged, lacking his usual enthusiasm about the potential for more power and she noticed that his hands were twisting around each other until he seemed to realize the action and dropped them to his side.

The sound of a door sliding open behind them drew Elizabeth's attention and she watched as Chuck poked his head inside. He looked around nervously, then his eyes fell on their little group standing, apparently casually, around the would-be threat. He blinked at them, looked at her, and then pulled his head back out. A moment later people began filtering back into the gate room, heading back to their stations.

"Don't you people ever listen to orders?" Rodney demanded, his voice angry to cover his nerves. "Evacuate means actually leaving further than the nearest corridor!" A few individuals had the decency to look abashed, but for the most part her people seemed to think that everything had been under control the entire time. "God, I miss my cat," Rodney groaned and rubbed at his eyes a moment. "At least he displayed intelligence once in a while." He glared around again for good measure and then turned to look at Elizabeth. She managed to speak before he could address her.

"Welcome back, Rodney." Her lips cracked into a slight smile.

"I take that to mean that my rightful place as the chief of science has been reinstated?"

"Of course, and I want to be the first to assure you that, as far as I'm concerned, something like this will never happen again." Her voice was a little steelier than she had intended, but the slightly satisfied look on Rodney's face made the slip in control acceptable, and then he sighed in what was over-exaggerated relief and turned to Radek.

"Finally," he stated. "I'm going to bed."

"What?" The Czech raised his eyebrows indignantly. "You leave me to clean up after this mess?"

"No, give the terra bomb to Gretchen...or Griselda...or whoever that German woman is that has legs up to here," he waved his hand around chest height. "It's her area of specialty, just don't give her that crystal, or the power source inside it."

"Genovefa." Radek helpfully supplied her name.

"Yes, her. Do you have any idea how hard it is to run a city when you're not in charge? I've barely gotten more than two hours a night this last week alone. That and power naps do not make me pleasant, and I want to be as pleasant as possible for the staff meeting we'll be having tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight. It's already after dinner and I want at least three hours of solid rest before I fix things around here. I need to get everybody back on the projects they're supposed to be on before anything else goes wrong. Announce the meeting for ten, and make sure they know it's mandatory." With a decisive nod Rodney turned and left, quickly. Elizabeth didn't miss that his hands had begun to shake as he'd finished giving instructions to Radek. This threat with the terra bomb had been close, perhaps closer then she could fully appreciate at the moment. Radek excused himself and rushed off to get things ready for McKay's return and Sheppard, despite the concern crinkling around his eyes, turned and grinned the largest grin she'd seen from him in months.

"He's back."

"He is." Elizabeth agreed.

"Any chance we can get the Daedalus to come back sooner than scheduled? I want to get rid of Greenstall ASAP."

"I'll see what I can do. For now, how about we step into my office; apparently there are some things I need to be briefed on." She couldn't remember the last time John had been that enthusiastic for a meeting to start.

ooOOooOOoo

Sheppard couldn't even begin to describe how satisfied he'd felt as he'd watched Greenwall disappear from the gateroom and into the Daedalus' brig in a wonderful flash of light. Judging by the dark look the man had given him just before he departed, Sheppard could only assume his face was giving his glee away. But damn it had felt good to get rid of the man with McKay standing by his side, both of them grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

Sixteen days of waiting for the Daedalus to arrive equaled sixteen days of waiting for the men who had caused so many problems on Atlantis to be taken back to Earth. It had been sixteen days too long as far as he was concerned. Now John leaned outside Weir's office, casually waiting to give his final report on the prisoner transport and next month's crew rotations. Elizabeth had joined them in the gate room earlier to see Greenwall and Sandburg off. Though she was too much of a diplomat for the smile to reach her face, John had sensed her pleasure when they were teleported away.

Peeking into her office now he could see Sergeant Rafat still standing at parade rest, her back to the doors as she discussed something which had apparently been more important than his scheduled meeting with Weir. Not that he minded really, because watching Rafat from behind was anything but unpleasant. He looked away quickly, realizing that, as the military commander of Atlantis he really shouldn't exercise such thoughts about his subordinates. Still, he was only human. He grinned a little to himself and then heard the unmistakable sound of boots heading towards the door. He stood up straight as Elizabeth's voice carried to his ears.

"Before you leave Sergeant, I wanted to know if the SGC was able to accommodate your request?"

"Yes ma'am, nothing that O'Neill couldn't handle."

"That's good to hear. Do you expect any problems?"

"No Ma'am. Dr. Beckett already has the package and is giving it a last once over." Sheppard quirked his eyebrows, perplexed. What were they talking about? It sounded like Rafat had provided something to Beckett, but there hadn't been anything in Sheppard's manifest about it. He leaned a little closer to the door.

"And Dr. Zelenka?" Elizabeth asked.

"Dr. Zelenka has agreed to deliver the package, but I didn't ask about his method."

"I'm sure it'll be memorable."

"Yes, Ma'am." John thought he could hear a smile in Rafat's voice.

When the two women suddenly appeared by the door John jerked to attention, and then tried to appear as though he hadn't just been listening in on them. They both looked at him, but neither seemed upset by his presence. In fact, Elizabeth looked rather pleased as she turned back to Rafat.

"Well Sergeant, I appreciate your initiative in this matter. Please let me know how it turns out."

"Thank you Dr. Weir. Sir," she sharply saluted them both and he nodded at her before turning to Elizabeth.

"Anything I need to know?"

"No. It's just a personal project that a few of our people decided to implement and wanted to confirm with me. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Okay then," he smiled and waved his hand, inviting her back into her office. She took the hint and led the way. They had work to do.

ooOOooOOoo

Rodney sat in his lab, his rather empty lab at the moment as it was three in the morning, going over the section head reports and updating himself on the progress of the staff that he didn't have much opportunity to work with. As much as he claimed to be bored to death by the softer sciences (which he was), he wanted to see how they were progressing, see if there were any new finds that actually interested him, and see how the individuals were doing. He'd been at this since about one, after he'd woken up and been unable to fall back asleep again. Same old, same old.

Somehow being in the lab alone and doing work was better than being in his quarters alone doing nothing but staring at the ceiling. Besides, at this time there was hardly anyone up to demand his attention and his teammates weren't dropping by at random moments in an apparent group effort to drive him insane.

Sheppard was the worst, demanding that he come to 'team nights' and workout sessions. As if Rodney wanted to workout around a whole bunch of people who could run laps around him on their hands. No, thank you. However, he hadn't been able to say no to Sheppard insisting on weapons practice and exclusive hand to hand combat training. Rodney had quickly learned that turning Ronon away when he wanted company for a jog was an effort of futility and just stupid. Also, any day now he was going to run out of excuses to avoid a beating from Teyla and her sticks, and trying to get a decent meal while reading up on a report was nearly impossible as Radek and Carson seemed to be obsessed with his eating habits. He was certain that they had roped his staff into forcing him out to eat with them at least once a day, not to mention the meals he spent with his team and, occasionally, Dr. Weir.

Rodney wasn't used to all the attention, even though it wasn't really any more than he had been involved in before Doranda. It was just that in the past he had instigated the meetings almost as often as everyone else had. Now he didn't go out of his way to meet up with anyone, but they still managed to find him no matter where he was. It was nice, flattering even, that they were putting so much effort into including him again despite his overall grouchiness.

Getting back into his lead role had been easy, seeing as he never really left it in the first place, and he took the opportunity to remind people of that fact as often as possible. He couldn't begin to describe the relief of being back in charge, not that he ever let the power go to his head...well, maybe he did sometimes, but he deserved it!

When the Daedalus had finally arrived Rodney had stood on the balcony overlooking the gate room as the men had been beamed onto the Daedalus in restraints. Sandburg, who had looked absolutely livid at the entire situation (most likely because Greenwall didn't want to take the fall for an attempted murder that he had only choreographed, and had given Sandburg up as his accomplice), had been glaring daggers at Greenwall the entire time. Rodney heard from Elizabeth that the engineer was willing to confess to Greenwall's hand in blackmailing the President to gain his position in Atlantis. Rodney hoped they both enjoyed a very long time in whatever secluded detainment center they were sent to.

Rodney had also experienced great satisfaction as he threw away the official letter of apology he received. He had never, ever, tried to give the impression that he was a reasonable and forgiving man and he had no time to deal with morons.

His staff was still a little cautious around him, worrying that they might say the wrong thing and set him off on an explosive tirade. He found it highly amusing to mess with their heads, but Radek had ordered him to stop making them feel guilty before they all had nervous breakdowns. Of course it was all in their heads because Rodney didn't treat them any differently than he had before...well, maybe he was a bit more distant, a bit more like he had been back in Antarctica , but he doubted they'd noticed that aspect of his personality.

Sheppard, however, had noticed, and he'd called him on it a few times. The first had been in the middle of a firefight on P3X 1R1, which thankfully hadn't distracted Rodney from the business of saving his own ass as well as protecting his teammates, but the man had a seriously deranged sense of appropriate timing for their 'meaningful' conversations. It was probably one of the reasons that Rodney couldn't help but like him.

Sometimes Teyla came and sat with him at breakfast and told him about the happenings on the mainland. Apparently people were asking about his well being, though he wasn't sure why they cared. Her knee had healed well.

In the silence of his lab Rodney sighed, and then startled as his computer suddenly blipped at him. He closed the file on the ecologists and their fascinating study of the plankton by the coast and frowned at it. The transporter by the mess hall was acting up again.

"I told them to fix that," he grumbled even as he grabbed a few small tools, stuffing them into his pocket, and headed out the door to the nearest transporter. He reemerged from the handy closet at a location close to the mess hall and quickly walked the few minutes it took to get there. The city was well lit, even at night, and he was glad for it considering how often he was dragged out of bed or the lab at any god given hour (like right now, for example) to fix something.

"If people just did their jobs right the first time..." he muttered before being startled to a halt as Sheppard quickly rounded the corner and barely avoided crashing headlong into Rodney. An image of the roadrunner cartoon with Sheppard's head on its body popped into Rodney's mind at the abrupt stop. He was tempted to look for a trail of dust and skid marks behind the man.

"I need to attach a bell to you so I know when you're about to come flying around a corner," he grouched, and looked at Sheppard's sweat covered shirt and flattened hair with distaste.

"But then my element of surprise," John swallowed around a lungful of air "would be wasted. Besides, it's fun to startle people, it keeps them alert, on their toes." Rodney didn't make any comment about Sheppard needing to be in bed and resting instead of running himself to death at all hours of the morning, because then he would be the pot calling the kettle black, only without the exercise routine.

"Or they could shoot you after they mistake you for a psychotic intruder, and they wouldn't be wrong about the psychotic part." He stepped past the panting man, careful not to brush against his sweaty body (because that's just bad hygiene), and continued toward the transporter he was going to fix. Sheppard stepped up beside him.

"Whatcha doing?" he asked and leaned in to bump his shoulder against Rodney's. Rodney batted him away.

"Fixing things, like always."

"At three thirty in the morning?" he asked and Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Atlantis doesn't work on our timeframe."

"She misses you when you're not around," Sheppard confided, as though this was some kind of revelation.

"Yes she does, but she doesn't show it very well by continuously breaking on me."

"She's just trying to get your attention," he teased and Rodney rolled his eyes.

"She's not the only one is she," he stated and looked pointedly at his sweaty companion.

"Apparently not," John replied, but he wasn't looking at Rodney as he spoke. Instead his gaze was directed at the transporter Rodney had been heading to fix. It was hard not to notice the cardboard box that sat in the middle of the open door.

Rodney gazed at it suspiciously and looked at Sheppard, who stared at it curiously.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" Rodney demanded grumpily.

"No. I usually wrap my gifts a bit nicer than that, generally with the funny pages from the newspaper."

"This had better not be some practical joke, because if I walked all the way over here for nothing..." Rodney stepped forward and bent down, pulling the white lid off and peered inside cautiously. Two sets of startled brown-green eyes stared back at him, their slit pupils adjusting to the new light and focusing on his face. He stared dumbly and they stared right back.

Then one jumped up and tried to claw its way out of the too large box and Rodney couldn't resist answering the request for release. He reached in and gently scooped the leopard tabby kitten into his hand, and then he picked up the other one for good measure and cradled them gently against his chest. They looked around curiously and while one seemed content to just sit and cuddle, the other one was trying to walk all over him.

They were absolutely perfect.

"Now that wasn't what I was expecting," Sheppard exclaimed as he reached out to pet one of the kittens. "A stash of gourmet coffee, unlimited boxes of smarties, some kinky sex toys, those I was expecting. Not this," he paused and poked at the one who was moving about, who swiped at his finger with slow, concentrated coordination. Rodney couldn't stop staring at them.

"Somebody actually listened to me complain," he was absolutely floored and looked back at the box for a note of explanation. There was just a letter-sized piece of paper that had bold letters stating: We thought two were better than one.

"We always listen to you complain, Rodney. You have a loud voice, it's hard not too."

"If they think they can buy their way back into my good graces then they've got another think coming," but his grousing was ruined as the quiet kitten yawned and then became interested in the tail of his/her companion and he grinned stupidly at them.

"Oh, you are such a push over," John said and they stepped into the transporter, which was obviously working, and Rodney sent them to the one closest to his quarters. He held onto them possessively as they walked down the hall and he let John go into his room first before following. His friend didn't have anything to do with this, he couldn't lie that well, but it was obvious that he rather liked Rodney's new family. So when he put the box down Rodney gave in and handed him the playful one to hold. If Sheppard's face lit up like a little kid at Christmas Rodney wasn't going to make fun of him; he was pretty sure the mushy look on his own face was much more embarrassing. He just had a soft spot for cats, he always had.

"What are you going to name them?" John asked, grinning as his kitten bit his thumb.

"Please, I haven't even gotten to know them yet. I can't just name them until I've figured out what would suit them."

"You should name them Jekyll and Hyde."

"No."

"Bonnie and Clyde?"

"Absolutely not."

"Sonny and Cher?"

"I don't think so."

"Pinky and the Brain?" Rodney paused a moment to think that one over...it could have merit.

"You are not naming my cats, John, so forget it."

"Fine," he tried to sound put out, but he was grinning as he sat on the couch for a moment, and then he jumped right back up. "You're going to need kitty litter and food." Then he saw the boxes stacked along the wall by the door that were crudely labeled in black marker: food. "Well, my safety crew has gravel small enough for them stocked up somewhere, and I'm sure we can scrounge up an appropriate box."

"That would be fine."

"You do realize that I am their official god father, right? If anything happens to you they come to me." Rodney supposed it was a given, seeing as John was his closest friend and all, but he wasn't about to concede to anything too quickly.

"Oh please, as if anything is going to happen to me." They put the cats down and companionably watched them play until five o'clock rolled around and they had to prepare for the day ahead.

Things weren't completely better yet, for a lot of reasons, but it was starting to come together. Rodney was fairly certain he'd always have trust issues with people in general, there was just too much personal history to overcome. Most of the people of Atlantis he could say he was bound to out of loyalty. He was willing to lay down his life for them regardless of whether they'd do the same in return. He sometimes found himself hoping they wouldn't because he already had enough dead friends and allies doing the conga line in his dreams. Keeping his distance was what he preferred, but he wasn't going to completely isolate himself from them, because he deserved more than that, and so did they. Kittens aside.

He trusted John and his teammates with his life, but still found himself questioning their friendly motives from time to time. He wanted to fully trust them, so badly that at times it was a bitter salve on his tongue, but it was new territory for him; territory that he was willing to explore but was planning on taking the long way around. He supposed the thing that made him the most content about this was that his friends seemed to understand and they never, not once, complained about how he kept trying to pull away, how he continued to test them. John and Radek especially, and if Rodney found himself opening up emotionally bit by bit, well, he supposed it was all a step forward. And sometimes, forward momentum could be a very good thing.

**  
Finished.**

Well I hope this fic was enjoyable! Especially to those who may have read it a second time now ;)

When I first posted this I promised that Laryn and I would be following it with another story, and I do not lie. It is mostly complete and Laryn is making sure it's in tip top order before we post. It is called "Conspiracies, Investigations, and Exploration, Oh My." Yes yes, I'm absolutely terrible at naming things and I am well aware that that, as well as grammer, are personal weaknesses ;)

All of your comments were wonderfully inspiring and the kitten names were great! I hope you enjoy the next story as well…just set a little time aside for it, because while it's not the longest fic on the Net (by far!) it is our biggest work yet.

Take care.


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